In Solitude, Where We Are Least Alone
by LVDB
Summary: A Code Geass / Evangelion fusion. Second Impact left the world in ruins and half of humanity dead. Now Lelouch and Nunnally must plunge into a shadowy realm of politics and Qabbalistic prophecies as heaven's messengers prepare for the final act...
1. Chapter 1: Lelouch

**Chapter 1: Lelouch**

"Thinking about something?" C.C. asked.

"Always, Auntie."

C.C. wrinkled her nose and sank back into the seat's leather cushions. She clinked her spoon against the sides of her teacup as she stirred in a quadruple serving of sugar.

"You know I don't like it when you call me that," she said.

"Which is precisely why I do it so often," I replied.

C.C. rolled her eyes–the immortal witch's equivalent of a "Do Not Disturb" sign. My gaze drifted to the car's window. I needn't have bothered; the white stripes on the walls of the Geofront's conveyor belt passed us with monotonous precision, like lines on a roadway. I heard the flit of a page being turned, and groaned.

"Don't tell me you brought one of your cheap romance novels," I said.

The window reflected C.C.'s shrug.

"If you must know, it's more like a comic book," she said. "One of the few pieces of Eleven culture that Britannia didn't suppress after Second Impact. The natives call it–"

"Manga," I finished. "I know. I did my research too."

"You were always such a diligent little boy," she said.

"Your condescension is noted. And speaking of work..."

She didn't reply. I should have known better. As far as C.C.'s concerned, long pauses in conversations are good for only one thing: staring at you with a bored expression until you get fed up and finish your sentence.

"You know, it's customary to respond with something like 'go on'," I said.

C.C. permitted herself a tiny smirk.

"I learned a long time ago to never feed a junkie," she said.

I shot her a dirty look, which she also ignored. At last, I sighed.

"Okay," I said. "I'll spell it out for you. This car ride is probably the last unbugged conversation we'll have for a while."

"And...?"

"And I want your assessment of the situation."

C.C. smiled, a sight which gave me a brief (and, at the time, unacknowledged) feeling of contentment. Her smiles had always been a rare, like four-leafed clovers or white roses. When I'd first met her, C.C.'s smiles had half lives measured in fractions of seconds. Seven years and thousands of knowing smirks later, they occasionally managed to stick around. In my whimsical moments, I like to think that my sparkling personality had done the trick. When I'm sober, I put it down to a defense mechanism. Only two things in the universe can save you from a ten-year-old Lelouch: a sense of humor or a storeroom of industrial strength Ritalin.

After seven years, she'd developed the former.

"Surely my ears deceive me," she said. "The Great Lelouch vi Britannia, conqueror of Area Eighteen, condescends to ask–?"

"Oh, shut up, C.C."

She pouted and smoothed the pleats in her skirt.

"Oh fine," she said. "I think your father made a mistake in sending you here. The situation's...dangerous."

I crossed my arms defensively. It was unconscious gesture: my least favorite kind. C.C. raised an eyebrow to signal that she'd seen it, just as she'd done a thousand times during my posture training in my youth. "Too theatrical" had been the kinesic anthropologist's verdict.

Guilty as charged

"In case you haven't noticed," I said, "I've been dealing with dangerous situations ever since my first food taster died."

C.C. gave me a dismissive wave.

"Britannian court politics are child's play," she said.

She must have seen my shoulders tighten, since her voice took on a slightly conciliatory tone when she continued:

"Before you get angry, bear in mind that I know you're clever. That isn't the question. There's something you need to understand about NERV: They may not have eugenic pedigrees stretching back fifty generations, but they're _also _very clever, and they've been playing this game a lot longer than you have."

I did my best to laugh knowingly.

"Mom already gave me this speech," I said. "Like I said, my parents think I can handle it, so what has you so worried?"

C.C. crumpled a packet of sugar and tossed it into the back seat. Her eyes narrowed a fraction.

"Marianne has a nasty habit of optimism," she said. "And your father moreso."

I listened to the squeak of my skin against leather upholstery as I dragged my fingertips across the armrest. After a couple seconds, I looked up again and shrugged.

"Worked well enough for them," I said.

"They're an Emperor and the best pilot in history, respectively. You're a low-ranking prince facing off against the world's most powerful nonstate entity, headed by the most devious Eleven since Odo Nobunaga."

"Ah, but I have _you_ with me," I said, and flashed her a smile.

This time, she didn't reciprocate.

The conveyor belt groaned. I looked out the window to see what the matter was and found myself face to face with the most incredible sight I'd ever encountered. The Geofront formed an enormous basin, miles wide, closed to the surface by a giant dome that sprouted upside-down buildings like stalactites. Yet the whole thing was bathed in gold light. It shimmered on the skyscrapers' glass from long vents in the ceiling. The city looked like the poets' Samarkand sprung to life.

"I've never known you to be easily impressed," C.C. said.

The sarcastic edge to her voice completely slipped past me.

"I...yeah, I guess not..."

Three meter wide cables stretched from one end of the crater to the other like gigantic piano wires. At the center stood a pyramid, too large and smooth to get confused with its Egyptian predecessors. Other buildings–houses, schools, hospitals–straggled in clumps around it. A forest bloomed in the gaps.

"It _is _rather impressive," C.C. conceded.

I nodded.

"...But you asked my advice."

"Eh?" I said. "Oh, yeah..."

With great reluctance, I tore myself away from the window.

"Tell me about the pilots," I said.

Instead of answering, she rummaged in her purse and pulled out three glossy photographs, which she laid on the table. The boy caught my eye first. His tense face seemed as if it had been constructed around a pair of deep solemn eyes. Even his picture appeared to twitch.

"I've seen this photo before," I said. "Tell me something I don't know."

"Like what?"

I fought down the urge to grumble. Even as we approached Tokyo-3, C.C. couldn't resist the urge to keep me sharp...and probably critique me afterwards if I missed a crucial question. She had a point, I guess.

"Tell me about his relationship with his father," I said.

She tapped her cheek for a moment.

"Hard to say. Ostensibly terrible–Gendo abandoned him briefly as a child after his mother died. On the other hand..."

She trailed off as if hesitant to venture into the murkier waters of speculation.

"Go on."

"We suspect his desire for attachment is a major motivating factor," she said.

"Just attachment to his father, or is it generalized?"

C.C. looked up from her novel.

"You're asking if you could assume a surrogate brother role?" she asked.

"Of course."

She laid her book on the tray in front of her and hit the "recline" button. For the next few seconds, she retreated into the private world of her thoughts that I'd always known better than to interrupt. Her foot brushed the dashboard.

"Hard to know," she said. "Gendo's prepped him well. It would take some finagling."

Gendo. Despite my bravado, I felt the creep of unease at the name. As far as I knew, everybody in the Royal family had that reaction, except Dad. Maybe. On paper, Gendo was every Eleven's dream: a local boy who'd risen from the Tokyo streets to head the most powerful organization in the world. He was the only Eleven to stand up to Schneizel and win, and he'd filled Tokyo-3 to the brim with Eleven staff. The Geofront was his personal fiefdom, the only place in the world where an Eleven could call himself Japanese and believe it.

But there were cracks in the story, for those who cared to look. If the Geofront staff appreciated their benefactor, they also feared him. Even with the censorship wall that hung around Tokyo-3, I'd heard the stories: disappearances in the middle of the night. "Specialists" from Chile and the Ukraine who wouldn't say what they specialized in. People who found microphones in their walls and were too afraid to remove them.

...And then there was Clovis. He'd died in a bombing a month after he'd stuck his ever-curious nose into NERV affairs. Cornelia and I had recommended reducing Tokyo-3 to rubble. Dad had done nothing.

I muttered a silent prayer for Lloyd to hurry up on the Jetalot project. (Don't blame me for the name; it was Lloyd's idea. Apparently, 'Jet Alone' and 'Lancelot' aren't good enough individually).

"Glum already?" C.C. asked.

"I was born glum."

She shrugged as if to say, _Well, you have a point._

"You'll have friends, you know," she said.

"Eh?"

"Ashford Academy," she said with a little sniff. "They relocated it to Tokyo-3."

I rolled my eyes.

"I'm the Britannian _attache _to the Evangelion project, witch. Not a schoolboy."

The edge of her mouth quirked slightly upward.

"Your mother begs to differ."

"Yeah, right," I said. "Because the prospect of assassination is _so _much less terrifying than going into the working world without a good resume."

The sarcasm bounced off C.C. like a dart against an AT field.

"Precisely," she said drily. "I'm glad that you and I see eye to eye on this--"

"I mean really," I continued. "What'll I be able to tell my future employers? 'Oh, sorry I don't get an education. I was too busy wasting my time conquering Area Eighteen and beating zillion-foot-tall aliens.'"

"Now you're just being obnoxious."

I waved her off and turned back to the window. We'd descended close to the tree level. Tokyo-3 no longer looked like an assembly of matchbox cars and dollhouses.

"Feeling overworked already?" C.C. taunted.

"Hardly."

"Ah. Then you won't be interested in my little deal, then..."

I jerked away from the window faster than Euphie racing toward a kitten. C.C. looked innocently upward and picked at the ceiling with her fingernails.

"What 'deal'?" I asked.

"Oh, just mind control," she said. "But since you're not interested..."

"I lied," I said. "I always lie."

C.C. stroked her chin.

"Then how do I know you're not lying now, mmmm?"

I pointed a finger at her.

"Don't you _dare_, C.C."

In my intemperate youth, I'd discovered language paradoxes and tried them out on C.C. Unfortunately, I'd overlooked one crucial fact: as an immortal, she had a lot more patience to torment me with them than vice-versa. After years of enduring my pranks ("honestly, C.C., I have no idea why your pizza tastes like motor oil"), she'd grabbed the opportunity with both hands. The fun had continued until I woke up screaming "I know you know I know" in the middle of the night.

C.C. leaned away from me and stared out the window.

"So are you interested, or...?"

"I'm interested," I said.

"There are...strings...attached," she said.

_As usual._

"I refuse to give you my credit cards again," I said.

C.C.'s eyes fell to the rubber at the window's base. Her mouth hovered between a frown and a smirk before settling on a sad little smile.

"No, nothing like that," she said. "I'll tell you when the time comes."

In my experience, a lot in life comes down to trust. C.C. had never told me about her past, or explained the minor detail of why she never aged. Yet for all that...well, let's just say you'd understand if you grew up with the woman.

"Okay," I said, and knew that I would regret it.

* * *

Jeremiah met us in a NERV tunnel. Martinet that he was, he'd arranged our small military contingent–all six of them–into an honor guard. I smiled.

"Jeremiah "

He stiffened at my hand on his shoulder, and subtly nodded his head toward the troops. Villeta was trying very hard to avoid rolling her eyes, and Kewell was beet-red with empathic embarassment. I didn't care. Screw protocol.

"How have you been?" I said.

He remained stiff as a board.

"I am well, your Majesty. And thee?"

_Thee?_

Britannia reserves the second-person-formal for only the most sensitive of occasions. Picture a beggar talking to a prince in the middle of a military review while the prince is reading a particularly tricky passage of Shakespeare and you get a good idea. Or when Dad talks to his kids.

That's when I noticed that the members of the honor guard were fidgeting and casting uneasy looks at the passing Eleven staff. I'd seen the reaction before in Area 18; always during sieges. I detached my hand from Jeremiah and crossed it behind my back.

_Time for some playacting..._

"Quite well," I said. "I congratulate you on your troops' fine turnout, Lord Jeremiah. Might we proceed to meet our hosts?"

He bowed so low that it hurt my hamstrings watching him.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

* * *

I'd expected to meet Gendo in his office, and had almost been looking forward to it. As soon as I'd heard about the sparse, cold room with its Qabbalistic symbols and ability to make men quake in their boots, I'd resolved to get some pictures so I could redesign my own office accordingly. Alas, it was not to be. I ran into Gendo in the most un-dramatic steel hallway imaginable. I held out a hand.

"Commander Ikari," I said. "Pleased to meet you."

The two women standing next to him bowed. I recognized them. One wore a red NERV jacket and a skirt too short for a woman of her years, which I guessed to be late twenties. Her black hair carried an odd hint of purple. The other had a labcoat and could only be described as a "bottle blond"...if I was feeling cliche, that is, which I'm not. How does "chemically induced auricomy" strike you?

No?

Bottle blond it is, then.

Gendo stared down at my hand as if I'd just cleaned out a sewer with it. I left it hanging for a few more seconds, then lowered it again.

_Two can play at that game._

I gave him my most obnoxious smirk and looked him up and down as if I was appraising a new fighter jet. Aside from indulging my natural insolence, it gave me an opportunity to get a closer look at my new host. He stood around my height, which was still pretty short, but he was heavy around the shoulders and had a sturdy blockiness to him. I found myself looking from Jeremiah to Gendo and back again. Jeremiah was tall and trim, with the gymnast's poise that came from years at a fencing _salle_. A "killing gentleman", as we call them in Britannia. Gendo was missing the second part. The beginning of a double chin already poked out from his collar, although he'd tried to hide it with a beard. His nose had a crooked knob in the center. Someone had broken it. He also wasn't above hiding his graying hairs with dye, but he was too lazy to pick the right shade. Beefy hands clenched in their gloves when he realized what I was doing. It evoked visions of brass knuckles and tire irons.

This was a man who made a purple suit look intimidating.

And then, without a word, he turned on his heel and walked off. Ritsuko nodded to us and followed him.

"Katsuragi?" I said.

The NERV operations director paused halfway between us and the other side of the hallway.

"I understand that the Children already nixed a couple of Angels," I said. "I'd like the tapes sent up to my room. The uncensored versions, if you don't mind."

She turned and glared at me. I swear I saw a vein popping out of her forehead.

"You're not in Britannian sovereign territory anymore, prince," she said. "Elevens don't take orders as easily around here."

"Nevertheless, the Freedom of Information Agreement requires that you cooperate," C.C. said.

Misato looked at my companion as if seeing her for the first time. Her eyes snapped to the slits on the sides of C.C.'s black dress. I breathed a silent sigh of relief that she'd chosen not to wear her Swiss-goldilocks-dress-and-tiny-hat combo.

"Who are you, kid?" Misato said. "The girlfriend?"

C.C.'s face remained impassive.

"The aunt, apparently," she said. "And what I said is true regardless."

Misato gritted her teeth, jerked her head once in a nod, and stalked after Gendo. C.C. didn't wait for her to leave before commenting.

"What an irritating woman," she said.

Misato stopped at the end of the hallway. I saw her shoulders rise and fall as she took a breath. She closed a door.

"Did you see that?" I said.

"What?"

"That vein in her head. Do veins even _do_ that?"

C.C. stood a moment in silent contemplation.

"You know," she said, stroking her cheek, "I don't think they do."


	2. Chapter 2: Rei

**Chapter 2: Rei**

The apartment was cold.

This was not a revelation.

Commander Ikari's glasses watched me as I sat down, and as I undressed for a shower. They stood apart from the other objects in the room, since they could not be replaced.

Other objects could be replaced. I could be replaced. We were general categories, the furniture and I. Commander Ikari's glasses sat on the bureau because of an event that could not be duplicated.

This…disquieted me.

I walked to the bathtub and turned the knob. The water sent a shock along my arm. It was freezing, and my arm had not yet numbed from the cold. Commander Ikari demanded cleanliness, and expected thirty minute showers. Fortunately, I was prepared.

* * *

_What does a shower mean?_

_It means shivering. It means tense muscles. It means that my head will hurt and constrict._

_Will you take one anyway?_

_Yes. _

_And when you shiver and tense? When your head hurts?_

_Then I will remember that it was not the shower I desired, but self-control during the shower._

_

* * *

  
_

I stepped in. The water rushed over me. My limbs trembled, and then the pounding pain in my head appeared. My control slipped for a moment. I wished that I was out. I wished for a warm bath. When she was—or is it "we were"?--When I was young, I blamed myself for these lapses. Now I knew better. They were no one's fault. They just happened.

Water spat from the nozzle. My back and arms numbed as the water trickled down my legs to freeze the rest of me. I felt small tingles, then nothing. My skin acclimated quickly. Perhaps if I had more fat, I would be better insulated—

No. Commander Ikari would not approve. And only a fool relies on the body for comfort.

I thought I heard a knock. The water sloshed over my stiffened ears as I listened. Another knock came a seconds later, followed by garbled shouts through the stream of water. With some relief, I turned the faucet off again. Soap oozed down my hair and stung my eyes. This, too, was outside of my control, and I did my best to ignore it.

Commander Ikari's glasses stared at the door. I marveled at their patience. If they desired to, they could have stared forever. Unlike their former owner, they could watch over me for a thousand years. Men are mortal, and Commander Ikari was a man. I reminded myself of this whenever he praised me, to prepare for the loss when it finally came. It did not seem to help.

The door creaked as I opened it.

"Good afternoon," I said.

A slender boy with purple eyes and long black hair stuttered something I could not make out. He did not answer my greeting.

"Good afternoon, Prince Lelouch," I said again.

The boy found his voice.

"R—Rei…you, ah, might want to get some clothes on…"

"This is…inappropriate?"

"Afraid so."

"Oh," I said. "I apologize."

I pulled on my dresser drawer. It jerked, but did not open. Remembering to push down first, I tried again and succeeded. The clothes warmed me somewhat, but water and soap leaked onto the fabric and made me itchy. My eyes burned as more shampoo dribbled into them. The boy turned away while I dressed, just as Pilot Ikari had. I wondered if this indicated my body was unpleasant to look at. If so, Commander Ikari--

"Rei, I could come back later," Prince Lelouch said.

"I do not understand."

The boy leaned on the door. His shoulders were slightly tense, which probably indicated discomfort. He pointed at my hair.

"You might want to finish your shower," he said. "Your hair still has shampoo in it, and it looks like it's getting in your eyes."

"It is not harming me," I replied.

"Your eyes are tearing up," he said. "For crying out loud, I'm not a protocol Nazi like Guinevere. Just finish your shower and we can talk later."

I tilted my head at the boy.

"You misunderstand, Prince. The shampoo is not harming me."

"Rei, I _really_ don't mind waiting."

"Harm can only occur when we desire a state which we cannot experience," I said. "I understand that my body is beyond my control, and pain is a bodily sensation. Therefore--"

"--Therefore, you try to suppress the desire for your pain to stop," he finished.

My eyes widened for a moment, which allowed more soap and shampoo into them.

"Yes," I said.

The boy rubbed his forehead, and then looked up again.

"According to Article 43 of the Cooperation Pact, I outrank you. Correct?"

"Correct," I said.

"In that case, I order you to finish your shower before our talk," he said.

"I…yes, Your Majesty. Do you wish me to undress in private?"

He did not say anything at first. His eyes snapped to my shoulders, which were shivering.

"Eh? Yeah. And make the shower short," he said.

"Clarify, please."

"No more than eight minutes."

"As you wish," I said.

* * *

The boy sat cross-legged on the chair when I emerged again. He insisted that I put on dry clothes, despite the wet ones' serviceability. I did not—

_The glasses._ The boy had touched the glasses, since they lay three inches to the right of their usual position. It was as Commander Ikari had said: Prince Lelouch wished to pry into NERV affairs. I felt my hands clench before I reminded myself that I must not be angry, since I could not influence his actions. Prince Lelouch's eyes followed mine, and he frowned. He must have seen my reaction. Slowly, he lifted his back from the wall and brushed gray grains of dust from his jacket.

"So…cheerful place you have here," he said.

"I do not understand," I replied.

This was not entirely accurate.

Prince Lelouch gestured to the room. The orange-and-yellow rays of the setting sun painted his shadow on the wall. It reminded me of the tiny scarecrows I had seen in the fields from my Evangelion. Or, more precisely, the scarecrows that had appeared tiny from the vantage point of my Evangelion. Prince Lelouch stepped away from his shadow when he saw it, as if it could brush against the cobwebs on the wall and get them on his jacket.

"This doesn't look very comfortable," he said.

The gentle tone in his voice might have been intended to deceive me.

"I prefer it that way," I said.

Prince Lelouch raised an eyebrow, probably to indicate disbelief.

"A comfortable apartment would be a liability," I continued. "It might be taken away from me."

Prince Lelouch sat back and seemed to consider this. After thirty-seven seconds, he leaned forward and opened his mouth, only to close it again. He remained silent for seventy-two more seconds.

"Must be kinda difficult when you have friends over," he said.

Despite his use of slang, he spoke very carefully.

"I do not have friends," I said.

His head shot up.

"Another liability?" he said.

"A distraction," I said. "If I pursue contentment and friends at the same time, I will obtain neither."

Prince Lelouch's lip curled slightly. He stood up and walked to the window with his hands crossed behind his back. His voice became harsher.

"Inner peace never helped anybody, Ayanami."

"No," I said. "But it grants freedom."

Prince Lelouch stood up straighter. He stopped breathing momentarily.

"And the loneliness?" he asked.

"People fear ideas about things, not the things themselves," I said. "Loneliness is like that."

"You're sure?"

"If loneliness were terrible, then Commander Ikari would suffer from it," I said. "He is alone, but not lonely."

Prince Lelouch turned around and fixed me with an odd look. He drummed his fingers on the desk.

"Did I offend—" I began

"No," he said, waving his hand. "It's just…you reminded me of someone I know. Knew. Well, a little of both, I suppose. Never mind."

I nodded.

"Very well, Prince Lelouch."

"…And you have no idea _what_ Gendo's feelings are, so it's useless to speculate," he said.

I narrowed my eyes. This time, I did not disguise the gesture.

* * *

_Why did I reveal my thoughts to this person?_

_Because you chose to. This, too, was under your control._

_But…_

_You desired something and acted upon that desire._

_

* * *

  
_

"I wish to know the purpose of your visit, Prince Lelouch."

His eye twitched. With great care, he walked back to the chair and dusted it off. A cloud of particles swirled through the air and caught the light like mayflies.

"I saw your battle footage," he said. "I want to discuss it."

"That…would be agreeable."

Prince Lelouch smiled and motioned to the bed, so I sat down. We spoke for the next half hour about tactical matters. He proved competent. Most of his questions betrayed a superior grasp of EVA technology, just as Commander Ikari had said they would. I, in turn, asked him about the Fifth Child, Anya Alstreim. He described her in great detail, and expressed his hope that we could become…acquaintances when she arrived in Tokyo-3. I answered with guarded optimism.

He left.

I rose and pressed my ear against the splintered door. I listened to the _clip-clop_ of his shoes as he descended the stairs. He stopped on the second floor, where a female voice greeted him in a whisper. She seemed bored.

"So…?"

"My guess is either rational emotive therapy gone berserk or hardcore stoicism," he said. "Considering Gendo's lack of a classical education, probably the former."

"What'll you do about it?" she asked.

Her tone seemed almost amused. She appeared to be challenging him, which was odd for a subordinate.

"Contact Lazarus and Clark at the BPA," he said. "I want a rundown of all the current methodologies in exit counseling and cognitive behavioral therapy."

"So you think…?"

"No. But it's a start."

The girl laughed once, though she did not seem particularly amused.

"Trust you to play mind games while the world's burning."


	3. Chapter 3: Shinji

**Chapter 3: Shinji**

Father's spoon clattered on the side of his plate as he scooped his first spoonful of Yorkshire pudding. He raised it to his lips and chewed slowly, sucking every last drop of flavor out of it. I mentally leafed through the ingredients. Had I remembered all four eggs? I thought so, but…

Maybe it was the "pinch" of salt. I mean, what's a pinch? Did I put in too much? Too little? And I _knew_ I should've used lard instead of vegetable oil…

"Fine," he grunted.

I breathed a silent sigh of relief.

"Glad you like it, Father."

He sat back and tapped his gloved hand on the leather arm of his chair. A breeze whistled through the sliding door; images of the Geofront reflected off the glass. The giant slashes in the ceiling shone like yellow spotlights on Tokyo-3. Father's city, I thought. _My_ city. The realization struck me for the thousandth time that my childhood home was entering its twilight.

Father swirled port around in his glass. I took this as a good sign.

"Sir, about Rei…"

His hand stopped moving. Even through his purple glasses, I could see his eyes narrow.

"What about Rei?" he demanded.

I shrugged and looked back at the view from the window. I saw my nervous reflection as I scratched the back of my head. He saw it too.

"I…Never mind, Father. I'm sorry."

He craned his head forward and rested it on his elbows. "The Look", I called it. It used to give me shivers as a kid. Still did.

"What about Rei?" he repeated.

"Sir, I just thought…"

_Please don't make me go through this, Father…_

"Spit it out, boy," he said.

"She doesn't seem very…happy," I said carefully.

His expression didn't change an iota.

"Is she supposed to?" he said.

"No, Sir, but—"

"Then don't waste my time."

My gaze fell. I noticed a stain on my jeans. It was no use, though; I could feel his eyes bore into me from across the table. He knew I was keeping something from him. He _always_ knew. The butterflies in my stomach fluttered more insistently as each moment passed.

"I just wish there was another way," I blurted out.

I heard his leather gloves constrict as his fists tensed.

_Oh, crap…_

"You want to abandon your mother?" he said. "Is that it?"

"No! It's just…"

He bolted upright from the table. His face didn't reflect any anger. It was as cold as ever--a dangerous sign. I'd learned to recognize it from long experience.

"Perhaps you've forgotten why I decided to take you back years ago," he said.

My voice, which I'd intended to sound confident, came out as a tiny squeak.

"I remember, Father."

He walked to my side of the table. I counted the steps—five, and another on the carpet. Rough hands grabbed my chin and forced it toward the sunset. My entire body tensed. I begged my neck to stay loose so he didn't think I was fighting him.

"You want to look away?" he said. "Go ahead. Look. What do you see?"

"I…Father, I'm—I'm sorry, but I don't—"

"What do you see?"

My voice rose an octave.

"Tok—Tokyo-3, I guess!"

He released my cheek. I felt the blood pulsing under my skin where he'd grabbed me.

"Wrong," he said. "You see _Japan_. And what have I told you about Japan? Eh?"

"Japan ends the minute the Britannians think the Angels are gone," I recited.

He patted my cheek in that 'good boy, Shinji' way I always hated. And needed.

"Correct at last," he said.

"But Rei—" I began.

His open hand struck my cheek a lot harder. I felt a shock of pain, followed by warmth in my face and ears. I sniffled and felt even more pathetic.

"You're here to save your _mother_," he said. "Not that Angel halfbreed you've set your incestuous little eyes on."

My jaw dropped. Whatever I'd been planning to say whimpered and died before it left my mouth.

"Father, I've known Rei for years—"

"—and never showed interest in her before she started growing breasts," he said with a sneer. "Please spare me your excuses."

_Or maybe I just never had the guts to comment before_, a voice in my head muttered.

_What a coincidence!_ another voice replied. _I __still__ don't have the guts_.

My father threaded his white gloves together behind his back and turned to watch the sunset. His purple NERV jacket seemed to turn black as the light silhouetted it. He scratched under his cufflinks at the burn scars that had never quite healed right and pointed at a spot next to him on the carpet.

"Come," he said.

I shuffled beside him. He rested a hand on my shoulder, and his voice assumed a conciliatory tone.

"I prevented the Britannians from taking you away because I needed you, Shinji. Your mother needs you too. Very well: you're lonely. I was too at your age. After Third Impact, you'll meet your mother again and forget all about the loneliness."

I sighed.

"Yes, Sir."

"..And _that's_ why I need you to keep a close eye on the other pilots. That Britannian prince is up to something with Rei."

As he said "Rei", a low growl escaped his throat. His fingers tightened painfully around my shoulder. When I think back to my childhood, my father's fingers stand near the top of my list of memories. They always seemed strong enough to tear sheet rock. I winced. He seemed confused for a second, then looked down at me and released my shoulder.

This was the extent of his apology.

"Y…Yes, Sir," I said. "I'll keep you informed."

He ruffled my hair.

"I saw your battle against the sixth Angel," he said.

"I'm sorry, Sir. The Type-B equipment didn't work underwater, so we had to—"

"You did well," he said.

"I…I mean…um…Thank you."

I beamed. His words massaged the pain out of my throbbing shoulder. Come to think of it, they gave me the warm, fuzzy feeling that I'm told most kids get from hanging out with girls, or friends. Not that I'd know.

"Wipe your eyes," he said. "It's pathetic when a man cries."

"Yes, Sir."

* * *

Asuka Langley Sohryu.

As in:

_The Great Asuka Langley Sohryu_

_Asuka, the Untouchable Goddess of Battle_

_Asuka, The Fourteen-Year Old Supermodel Who Wouldn't Let Me Near Her_

_Asuka, The Girl In A Catsuit_

The fourth description only made the third all the more painful for me.

"Aaaaaand we're READY!" Milly shouted.

I looked at Ashford's ninth grade class as it took its marks on the starting line. I wondered for the tenth time in as many seconds how I'd gotten into this. A dozen girls in cat suits gritted their teeth and dug in their heels. A dozen guys in Count Dracula outfits sat in little red wagons behind them. I was among them.

And before you ask: No, it wasn't Halloween. It was Ashford.

Rei stared morosely at the finish line ahead, completely oblivious to the drooling looks of admiration her panther costume drew from the ninth grade boys. Princess Nunnally giggled and waved at me. Her smile made the painted black whiskers on her cheeks perk up. A brown-haired Britannian kid sat in the wagon behind her. Every so often, he cast stealthy glances at Lelouch. When he saw me watching him, he glared until I looked away. His eyes were a weird shade of purple.

Asuka muttered something about the link between inbreeding and insanity in noble families, about how a certain class president was setting the women's movement back fifty years, about how ridiculous she looked in her costume because it wasn't properly _fitted_ for an elite pilot like herself, about how heavy I was, about how she'd never—_never —_debase herself by pulling me, and how—

BANG!

Maybe it's my cynical memory playing tricks on me, but I could swear Asuka took off a split second before Milly fired the starter's pistol. The jolt nearly threw me out of the wagon. It keeled and gyrated as Asuka weaved around the girls in front of us. Her shoes kicked gravel everywhere and raised a cloud that left half of our competitors choking on dust.

Something tells me that this wasn't accidental.

"Outta my way, Hikari!" she shouted.

"But—"

The Class Rep barely had time to let out a mild-mannered "EEP!" before Asuka barreled past her. Probably for luck, she slammed my wagon into Toji's as she passed. Hikari lost her grip, and the wagon careened off the road. Toji crashed into a tree.

"Stinking gaijin ginger!" he shouted

"Save it, dumbass!" Asuka crowed. "I've got a race to win!"

"What about the women's movement and never pulling me in a million—"

"Shut up, Ikari."

I decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and shut up. We were only a few seconds away from the finish line now.

The fastest streak of black nylon that I'd ever seen rocketed past us, accompanied by a mischievous "Teehee!" Asuka screamed in frustration and redoubled her pace. The girl was ahead of us now, but she was close. Maybe she'd tire. Maybe she'd…

…get an extra burst of speed and arrive at the finish line ten seconds before us.

Asuka arrived a distant second. The victor jumped up and down and clapped her hands happily. When my red-headed fellow pilot crossed the finish line gasping and wheezing, the girl held out her hand.

"Wow…You're fast, Asuka!" she said. "Nobody ever gave me a challenge like that before, and I've been running for a _long_ time..."

Asuka stared at the proffered hand as if it was made of alley sludge. Reluctantly, she brought her own hand into shaking position.

"I…um…congratulations, Princess Nunnally."

Nunnally beamed. She turned to her companion.

"Wasn't that _fun_, Rolo?" she said.

The Britannian boy's face had turned an interesting shade of green. He pitched out of the wagon and clutched the ground like a long-lost friend.

"Never again…never again…never again…"

Nunnally knelt and patted him on the back reassuringly…Which was fortunate, since she didn't notice the pained look that spread across Asuka's face. The Great Asuka Langley Sohryu turned away, fists balled at her sides. I debated whether to follow her. Better not, I decided. I prefer to avoid awkward situations unless I can't help it—

Rolo threw up on Nunnally's dress. I raced after Asuka.

"Um…Asuka?"

The other racers started arriving, with Milly hard on their heels. Asuka was halfway across the Ashford lawn by now. She grabbed her cat ears and dashed them to the ground, deliberately stomping on them as she passed. When I said her name, she half-turned toward me. I saw a tear in her eyes before she snapped her head forward again.

"Always _second_ best," she muttered. "And always—_always_—to some stinking Britannian. Never fails, does it? There's always some genetically engineered _Miststück_ ready to show me up—"

"Asuka, are you okay?"

She whirled around. Her tone was low, but dangerous. Kinda like Dad's when he's in one of his nastier moods.

"Shinji?" she said.

"Y-yeah?"

"Get. Away. From. Me."

And so I did.


	4. Chapter 4: Nunnally

**Chapter 4: Nunnally**

Bureaucracies are like promises: once you make them, you can never take them back. So it was with NERV when my father built it. NERV began as a small project headed by an eccentric Japanese couple. It had languished under Kururugi's administration, since Genbu had regarded it with suspicion. It didn't help that NERV drew most of its funds from the EU after Prime Minister Lorenz took it under his wing.

With conquest came new management. And catastrophe.

When I was a little girl, Second Impact drowned the southern hemisphere. The world lost half its population; Britannia and the EU barely lost a tenth. Then Britannia swept down from the north, gobbling up Area after Area--Columbia, 2003. Ecuador, Peru, 2004. Bolivia, Venezuela, 2005. Brazil the same year. And the rest…Father gained more land in five years than Britannia had conquered in the previous hundred.

Fourteen years after Impact, the Angels arrived. We met them with knightmares and failed. We met them with FLEIJAs and failed. NERV met them with the Evangelions. What had once been a small research organization had glutted itself on Britannian funds like a bloated tick on the body politic. Gendo Ikari was a murderer, but his weapons worked.

Now we depended on him. Knowing what I knew, that piece of information terrified me.

* * *

"F-Father?"

The cold man on his cold throne did not offer me a smile. No matter. I knew—really, I did—about the affection that he hid behind his mask.

This was his evening audience. Most nobles had left hours ago. The Britannian flag hung above the throne: a serpent and viper wound around each other. When I was young, I thought they were kissing. Even though Schneizel corrected me, I still liked to think that our heraldic animals made out when nobody was looking.

The lights shone faintly on the Emperor's throne, aside from an odd green glow that came from behind him, giving his double-breasted buttons the look of old copper when it reflected from them. It crept through cracks in a sandstone frame, and I soon realized that the cracks were hieroglyphs. I remembered what they meant, too.

Father's eyes seemed to burn like coals…or Geass. I reminded myself that he didn't know anything yet.

_Just a trick of the light…_

"Speak," he said.

"I…um…"

I found myself fiddling with my hands. Not a good start. His brows rose.

"Er…_Ahem!_" I said. "Father, I wish to take over the Jet Alone project."

"Jetalot," he said.

"But that name's so _silly_…"

His voice became stern.

"Jetalot," he repeated.

I sighed.

"Oh, very well," I said. "Jetalot. Now that Lelouch's in Tokyo-3, I want to help him as much as I can. I feel…well, I feel guilty for leaving him there, Father."

The sides of Father's mouth curled into a sneer. He looked down at me too quickly, which upset his curls. As I looked away, he straightened the wig again.

"Guilt is a weakness," he said.

My mouth dried out. I could feel a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach. Nobody, not even Gendo Ikari, has ever scared me more than Charles zi Britannia….despite the fact that I _knew_ he meant well…

I fought the tremor in my voice.

"I—Yes, it…um…is a weakness, I-I guess…but it's useful, isn't it, Father? To you, I mean? Lelouch might, ah…be your heir someday, and because I love him, I could help…"

His mouth twitched, almost too fast. Lelouch, who always hated Father, would have thought it was a dismissive smirk. I knew better. The orbicularis oculi muscle had also twitched, which meant it was a smile. Our kinesics tutors had a word for that expression—something French, I think.

Hands behind his back, Father stepped off the throne and descended the steps until he stood a few places _below_ me. Our heads rested on the same level, which I found unnerving.

His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"And your credentials?" he said.

It was a struggle, but I gave him my cutest smile and handed him my CV. He pretended to leaf through it as he watched me. Both of us knew its contents.

"On page three," I said, "you'll find that I graduated with a dual J.D. / M.P.A. from the Camelford School of Government two years ago…ah….Sixth in a class of seven hundred…and…um…Oh! Right! I managed a position in the Exchequer for a year…"

He turned the page with a _fwop_ so loud I nearly jumped.

"A sinecure," he said. "Not a genuine post."

"Um…true, but I improved productivity by six hundred percent!"

I threw him another cute smile. Couldn't hurt.

Something clicked as he pulled it from his pocket. I nearly fell over when his hand emerged with a pair of reading glasses. He must have seen me gaping, because he tapped the paper loudly.

"What's this?" he demanded.

I peeked over his shoulder.

"The E.N.O. is the largest private charity in Britannia," I said in my most official-sounding voice. "As its Dictat…um…Director, I nearly doubled its collections volume and—"

He raised a hand.

"I know _what_ it is," he said. "But why is this filth on your resume?"

So that was it, then. The dismissal. My jaw tightened. I decided that I might as well go down fighting.

"Because _I_ think it's important, Father! I think it's very noble…"

His glare silenced me. The only sound for the next few seconds was the click of his glasses as he folded them and stuffed them back into his pocket. Without a word, he clip-clopped back up the stone steps and sat down again.

I gulped.

"Very well," he said. "_Director_ Nunnally. Report to the Jetalot program immediately."

"YAY! Oh, Daddy, this—um…I mean, I appreciate your faith in my abilities, Your Majesty. I hope that I shall prove myself worthy."

He graced me with a polite nod. I bowed.

"I doubt it," he said. "In any case, you may go."

I was so close to _skipping_ out of the throne room that I shudder to think about it now. As it was, my steps were a little too springy. I had walked halfway down the darkened hall when Father's voice stopped me.

"Director?"

"Eep! Er…yes?" I said.

"Tell anyone about my glasses and I'll have you shot," he said.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Now run along. Your father has work to do."

* * *

Cornelia sat in silence as the video feed played. At the beginning, she'd crossed her legs over the footstool, tapping her finger impatiently on the armrests. She'd been indulgent. Now she huddled forward, eyes wide, mouth open. I couldn't blame her.

Euphie stood behind Cornelia. Since the rest of the room was dark, the television painted her blue. On the screen, two Evangelions confronted something that looked like a four-legged starfish. The red Eva moved first. The girl's. Asuka's. Heedless of the boy's warning, she leaped—

"She cuts it in half," I said.

Asuka cut it in half.

"Shinji concedes that she's done well after all…"

…which he did…

"And now it splits into two and reforms," I said.

Cornelia bolted from her chair when triune bone masks regenerated on each side of the corpse, followed by legs and arms. A single body gave birth to two new opponents—one bronze-colored, the other silver.

"Bang…fwoosh…splat," I said, sweeping my hand upward to mimic the red EVA's impending flight. A moment later, the blow landed. The god-machine burrowed into the mud up to its waist, head first. Poor Asuka…

"And now Shinji," I said.

It was so. The gauze on Euphemia's dress turned a bright red as the screen showed an N-2 explosion. Cornelia's eyes snapped to Euphie's. She wasn't laughing now.

"You're _sure_ this is a live broadcast?" she demanded.

Euphie nodded.

"She did the same thing during the fight with the Sixth," she said. "And the Fifth…and the Fourth…"

"So it's true…"

Now, Cornelia looked at me with her parade-ground glare that melted men in their boots and had cowed me as a child…but now I felt a twinge of pity instead. Third Impact had showed me her deepest thoughts. I knew the price she'd paid for her reputation, and the longing for acceptance that drove her to pay it. For Father, of course.

…But Cornelia was my sister. Her expression softened, and then cracked entirely. Before I could say anything, she wrapped me in her arms and hugged me tight. Then I remembered that she'd protected me from Lelouch's teasing in the days before Lelouch had grown beyond the petty meanness of little boys.

"You poor thing," Cornelia said. "You poor, poor thing…"

Euphie's arms smothered me from the other side. A three-sister Britannian sandwich. For a moment, I basked in the warmth and wanted it to last forever. Alas, Lilith had given me a job to do.

"We need to talk," I said.


	5. Chapter 5: Nunnally

**Chapter 5: Nunnally**

_NERV Boston: the new capital city of an empire that died twenty years ago. Long after Pendragon dried up and starved, the MAGI-operated infrastructure in Boston cranks onward. Automated water and electricity continue as before. The trains run on time. In a Britannian Empire of barely a hundred thousand people, the computers that run our lives do not mourn the dead. The delights of Instrumentality did not tempt our machines as they tempted us…once._

_We are the remnant._

_A winding chain of souls dangles in front of me. It stretches from an infinitely distant floor to an infinitely distant ceiling. Bodies compose its links. Some hang upside down; others jut to the side. All merge into a single long strand. Their arms beckon me, reach out for me. Their skin is black._

_Around us: golden clouds. A sun that never sets pierces through them. It hovers ahead, ensuring that all of our shadows fall behind us—as long as we face the light and never look back. We stand in an open air temple. When reflected at this angle, the sunbeams give it the look of dark green quartz, although it isn't. Steps lead up to it. Flanking these, two columns stand watch, each mounting an octahedral lamp that the sunlight makes irrelevant._

_It's an illusion, all of it. Akasha is actually a steel cylinder, perhaps a football field in diameter. Colored wires and hastily soldered metal panels are its walls. Above it—if we could look beyond the veil that our minds' eyes have constructed—we would see a planet floating in a void--a gas giant, like Jupiter._

_Father built it as a weapon to overthrow the gods. He was a bit late. _

_Retainers stand behind me. I know their innermost thoughts, and they know mine. We saw each other in Instrumentality, and kept up correspondence thereafter when Lilith let us go. In a world of two hundred thousand souls with no common language, my company at the top is rather thin. In case you care:_

_Jeremiah. At attention. As always._

_Lloyd. In the years before Instrumentality, his eccentric tics and monomania drove others away. Now, his experience as an isolated misfit has become an asset—if you could call it that. He doesn't anymore. There is an empty space to his right where Cecile should be, but isn't. _

_C.C. A hollow shell, a vessel for her Code. Instrumentality tore her soul in two like Kyoko Sohryu's. She yearns for someone still trapped in the Ring of Souls, but cannot remember what it felt like to love him. _

…_That's it. The rest of them swim in the hive-mind that poisons our oceans and orbits the Earth in a red ring. It prospers and grows fat from the souls it eats, and has eaten. Below it, the Collective Unconscious withers._

_I place my hand on the chain. It crackles in response._

"_You're sure that this will work?" I ask._

_Lloyd shakes his head._

"_Nope," he says. "Sorry, Nunners."_

_Jeremiah stiffens behind him._

"_You will address her as 'Empress' or 'Your Majesty'," he snaps._

"_Fascist," Lloyd mutters._

_His jibe is good-natured; I hope. Lloyd has become more serious with passing years. The former sub-Director of the Jetalot program bows so low that his hand sweeps across the floor. I smile, removing my hand from Akasha to place it on his shoulder. The other rests on Jeremiah's. _

"_So this is it," I say._

_C.C. watches us from the sidelines like a child peering through a window. She wrings her hands and looks at nothing in particular. Amber eyes dart to random points in the clouds. I try to coax her over, but she doesn't come._

"_Wish me luck," I say._

"_Going to rain tonight," C.C. replies. "Hm…vi Britannia's there, isn't he?...mm…sunny here, though…softest black hair I've ever felt…Distant as usual…Time's a state of mind, really…"_

"_Good luck," says Jeremiah._

"_Good luck," says Lloyd._

"_Goodbye," I whisper._

_Akasha activates._

_

* * *

  
_

**Japan: Jetalot Project Meeting**

I stood at a podium with a corrugated yellow screen behind me. Someone had decorated the wall with red-and-white striped banners that reminded me of candy canes. Paper flowers studded it at intervals of a foot or so. A thousand paper cranes hung on the walls.

Several had messages written on them: 'wellcome Nunalie', 'huray', and the rest.

I sighed. The Japanese—_not_ Elevens, I reminded myself—had gone all-out to receive me. And if they didn't know my language as well as I knew theirs, well…it was _our_ fault for closing the public schools, wasn't it?

Half an hour earlier, Euphie and I had arrived in one of those VTOL planes that my brothers found interesting when they were children. Now she sat with Cornelia. Non-Britannians sat apart from the rest in the corner of the room. The Britannian tables overflowed with food—beluga caviar, champagne bottles, Kobe beef, truffles, foie gras—while our Japanese subjects made do with cheap sake.

…Until Luciano Bradley took it away from them. Can't have the Elevens getting drunk on company time, after all.

When Euphie had sent her own champagne to the 'Eleven' table, Bradley had given her a look that would have curdled milk. Euphie had ignored it. Suzaku had not…and since Luciano had surrendered his knives at the door, the Knight of Ten looked distinctly relieved when I patched matters up before Suzaku got the chance to take him apart. Euphie's knight could be a little...overzealous sometimes.

I tapped the microphone.

"Um…hello? Is this—oh, good. It's on. O-kay….Hi, everyone. My name is Nunnally vi Britannia, Eleventh Princess of Britannia and your new boss…."

I smiled and waved. At our table, Rolo jumped up, yelling "Hi!" at the top of his lungs. He sat down a second later after everyone stared at him. Rolo's fingers shot to the chain around his neck, nervously stroking the locket I'd given him.

"Ahem…anyway, I see a lot of Britannian military in the audience tonight…"

Gino waved and gave me a goofy grin. The rest preened or tried to look official and stoic.

"…which is good," I continued. "Um…great, actually. Unlike NERV, we have top pilots instead of children. I know that all of you are itching to face the monsters that killed so many of your comrades…and…um…I hope we'll build machines worthy of your abilities."

It was as if I'd waved a cape in front of a bull. A collective growl ran through the crowd. It was muted, but definitely there. Britannia's military _hated_ Shinji Ikari—hated him with a passion greater than the Angels could ever evoke. Fourteen-year-old Numbers weren't supposed to pilot Britannia's greatest weapon. Even Suzaku's social climbing paled in comparison.

Good. They needed motivation.

My speech concluded, I thanked everyone for their time. My relatives rose and clapped. I can remember them still—a wall of gold buttons, velvet dresses and silk ascots. Schneizel shook my hand as I descended the stage. In another time, another life, he would have become Project Director and played his small (albeit oblivious) part in destroying the world. Not now.

Guinevere thought otherwise. My speech had barely ended when my sister swished across the room and accused me of stealing Odysseus's post. The feathers on her headdress bobbed angrily when she spoke. I had used undue influence, she said. I had manipulated Father, she said. Her accusations came as no surprise, since I had heard them before almost word for word—except that she'd directed them at Schneizel last time.

Odysseus patted me on the head and muttered his apologies after Guinevere stormed off. I thanked him. We heard a meaty thwack across the room, and Odysseus's eyes widened.

"You'd better go," I said. "It sounds like—"

"Gwen slapped another man for ogling her," Schneizel finished with a wry smile.

Our oldest brother nodded and raced after her. Guinevere's tattoo had a habit of attracting unwanted attention.

"Poor Odysseus," I said.

Schneizel nodded sagely and joined the party.

Mother hadn't come. She was "ill". I hid my disappointment behind the mask I always wore for company.

My spirits rose slightly when I saw a familiar pair of pigtails. Each supported an enormous gold hoop that must have weighed a pound. Her pink dress looked beautiful.

"Carline!" I squealed.

"Nunnally!"

We clasped hands and came _this_ close (I'm pinching my fingers together) to hopping up and down.

"I haven't seen you for _ages_," she said.

"You don't know the half of it."

I hadn't met Carline until we were seven, when I'd discovered her curled up in the pantry. Her mother had locked her there after she'd sneezed at a military review. I'll refrain from commenting any further on her mother save to say that she made our friendship difficult, but we managed anyway. That evening, we had baked blueberry cookies and debated the relative merits of Lelouch and Clovis. Things mushroomed from there. Seven years later, she still treated me with an air of exaggerated respect that I found embarrassing.

We chatted, swapped cookie recipes, and promised to catch up later.

A green light appeared in the corner of my eye. I followed it to its source: a camera in the hands of a ponytailed Britannian in a coat and turtleneck. Another man stood behind him—Japanese, with stubble on his chin.

_Well hello, Kaji…_

Later on, I could use him…but not yet. I crooked a finger at Guilford.

"Yes, Milady?"

"I'm sorry to sound pushy," I said, "but I specifically excluded press and the U.F.N. from this event."

Guilford's eyes widened like saucers. At any moment, he was going to start stammering his apologies.

"I don't know how they got—"

I headed him off by patting his hand.

"Don't worry," I said. "I just want Jetalot kept under wraps from now on."

Guilford exhaled, and his shoulders relaxed _j-u-u-u-st_ a smidgeon. He turned to go.

"And Guilford?" I said.

"Yes, Milady?"

"Don't be too mean to them, okay?"

"I…er…very well, Milady."

As Guilford evicted our party crashers, I heard a familiar voice. It droned in a world-weary way about particle accelerators, Gefjun theory, and whether cornstarch made a better thickening agent than tapioca. Before I could catch myself—or even realize what I was doing—I dashed over and half-hugged, half-tackled him. His wine splashed on me. I didn't care.

His coat smelled of mothballs.

"Lloyd!"

For a quarter of a second, surprise etched itself into his weasely face. Then we both realized that everybody was staring at us. I released him.

"Um…" I began.

"Er…yes…"

I stuck out my hand. My voice came out as a squeak.

"Nice to meet you!"

Lloyd looked around as if he'd stumbled into the middle of a rather elaborate practical joke and was waiting for everyone to laugh. Nobody did. Cornelia coughed loudly and looked from Lloyd to my outstretched hand.

"Ah…? Oh, right…" he said.

He leaned forward and kissed it. The blonde woman beside him smirked, but said nothing. She tapped a silver opium pipe on the hem of her sleeve. I recognized her: Rakshata Chawla, the knightmare designer who'd sold her talents to China in return for limited self-rule in Bengal. They'd given her to the Jetalot Project, and in return, she would spy for them.

I intended to let her. Doomsday was more important than national security.

* * *

After we broke off, I felt a sharp pain as Cornelia gripped my arm. I must have winced, because she let go as if I'd burned her and refused to meet my eyes after that. We walked to a balcony. I pretended to stare at the neon glow of Tokyo-2.

"I know," I said. "It won't happen again."

"It had better not!" she hissed.

My fists clenched. I turned to her.

"Cornelia, he and Jeremiah were the only friends I had. I'm sorry it looked suspicious, and I told you it won't happen again."

Cornelia's scowl softened. She ran her hand through my hair, and sighed.

"My little Nunnally," she said. "I'd never guess you had the consciousness of a woman in her thirties."

"I'm young at heart," I replied.

Another pair of high heels stepped onto the balcony. I heard the sound of silk dragging across the ground. The voice was gentle.

"Nunnally, you shouldn't have—"

Cornelia's raised hand cut Euphemia off.

"I already told her," she said. "It won't happen again."

"Oh…"

Euphie leaned on the marble railing. Below us, horns honked and aircraft roared through the sky, but all of that happened in the distance. For now, the night's air warmed our necks. Cicadas fiddled for us, courtesy of Second Impact.

"We should tell Lelouch," Euphemia said.

"No!...I mean, no. Not yet," I said. "The fewer people who know about this, the smaller the butterfly effect will be."

"…and the better your predictions are," Cornelia added.

"Right," I said.

Euphie absentmindedly chewed on her nails.

"But if Lelouch dies—"

"He won't," I said. "Sayoko's keeping me informed of his movements. He's safe."

Cornelia snorted.

"_Safe_? With Gendo Ikari?"

"Gendo knows that killing Lelouch would be a death sentence for NERV," I said. "Father wouldn't stand for it."

If Cornelia had been dismissive before, she was doubly so now.

"You must be joking."

I gently squeezed her shoulder and turned to the door.

"You'll have to trust me on this one," I said. "And Cornelia?"

"Yes?"

I unfolded a sheet of paper and handed it to her. Graphite stains were smeared across it. I'd written it in a hurry.

"I want the Jetalot Project's rooms redesigned to these specifications," I said.

Cornelia raised an eyebrow.

"If what you've told me about Geass is accurate, we'd just need a visor—"

"I'm not worried about Lelouch's Geass," I said. "He would never use it on me."

Cornelia's eyes narrowed.

"Then what…?"

"The person I'm worried about can read minds," I said.

* * *

Politics is a game of gestures. The Japanese kow-towed when I sat at their table. Gasps erupted from the nearest Britannians, but fortunately, the table sat far enough in the corner that few noticed us.

My new companions looked at me, red-faced from the sake but unwilling to meet my eyes. Everybody stopped eating. They shuffled, fidgeted, and did their utmost to look away without seeming rude. There were only two exceptions. The first was a red-haired girl whose sickly demeanor—'act' would have been more accurate—belied the highest aptitude scores for knightmare combat short of Suzaku's. Karen Stadtfeld, a.k.a. Kallen Kozuki. The Britannians had picked her because she was half-Britannian herself—and thus a 'natural' leader for her Japanese subordinates. They'd chosen poorly, since she was a terrorist.

She was Tohdoh's pawn, and he was Gendo's.

The second was more furtive. Unlike Kallen, Mana looked up from her food only when she thought I wasn't looking. Like Kallen, her hair carried a reddish tint, although wore it shorter, in a bob cut. She shared Kallen's hobby.

I switched to Japanese.

"Um…hi, everybody."

Jaws dropped. Silence, then nervous welcomes that contained more honorifics than your average C.V. I struggled to maintain my smile.

"Well," I said, "I'm going to be making an _official_ announcement tomorrow, but I wanted to give this in advance….Oh for goodness's sake, eat!"

They dug into their food with the zeal of marines storming a beach. Not _quite_ what I'd had in mind.

"I…er…anyway…Mana? Kallen? I'm doubling your training hours."

Mana nearly choked on her food, but said nothing. Kallen's hand tightened around her fork until the knuckles whitened.

"_Begging your Majesty's pardon_…" she began.

Her tone made it obvious that she wasn't doing anything of the sort. I nodded politely.

"…but I'm already doing forty hour workweeks. What makes you think—"

"Miss Stadtfeld!" I said, with as much sternness as I could muster. "Are you aware that your people are treated like second class citizens?"

"What does that have to do with—"

"And _furthermore_, do you realize that you and Mana are the only Japanese who have been given the chance to compete directly with the Knights of the Round?"

"I—um—What?"

"You and Mana are the first step toward equal rights for the Japanese. You're going to beat the Britannians at their own game, and that's that. Don't screw it up. And now, if you'll excuse me…"

I stood up. They stared at me as if I'd just announced that Nessie was real…which, in a way, I had. Belatedly, I noticed the stain on my collar from Lloyd's wine. Oh, well…

"…I have work to do," I finished.

I dipped my head to Kallen and headed back to my sisters. What I hadn't added was that the eighty-hour workweeks would prevent Kallen from contacting the JLF easily.

That night, I drank far too much champagne.


	6. Chapter 6: Lelouch

**Chapter 6: Lelouch**

**

* * *

  
**

[MELCHIOR]: _MessageIntercept below. Recommend MessageTerminate Immediately. Request Confirmation._

* * *

_**From:** Commander--NERV2--Nevada—SECURECHAN_

_**To:** Brit--Mil--Attache--NERV1--Tokyo3—SECURECHAN_

_Lelouch,_

_Work continues on the S-2 engine. In response to your earlier question: No, I doubt that giving an S-2 engine to a modified Angel (read: Evangelion) will cause trouble._

_On the other hand, there's something very peculiar about the EVA project. I don't mean the robots-with-souls issue, either. Nina Einstein found something the other day that worried me. I have attached her data to this message. Contact me if you agree with her assessment._

_P.S. -- Start reading up on the Qumran excavations. I'll explain later._

_--Schneizel_

_

* * *

  
_

[BALTHASAR]: _MessageTerminate to Original Recipient Confirmed. Recommend First: Copy & Reroute to Commander-NERV-1._

[CASPER]: _Concur MessageTerminate to Original Recipient. Concur Copy & Reroute First to Commander-NERV-1._

[MELCHIOR]: _Confirm Copy & Reroute. Message Terminated._

* * *

Two Evangelions blasted skyward through tunnels that would have made a mole rat jealous. At the bottom of the screen, the clock read 62 seconds. And counting…

The Seventh Angel waited. It—they?—were patient. The red EVA surfaced fractions of a second sooner than its blue counterpart, but not enough to screw up the countdown. In the background, music played.

The Angel looked up. Its flat arm-and-shoulder carapace sagged as a red light glowed on its chest. Three eyes turned to our checkered display screen and glowered at us. The Angel's bone eye covering reminded me of a button, or a showerhead.

In perfect unison, the EVAs leaped into the air, carried by the force of their launch catapults. Out came the spears. As their aerial pirouette concluded, the EVAs hurled their weapons into the Seventh Angel. Pink meat oozed from the cut—a cross between salmon and sewage. The Angel split.

"Pass the popcorn, witch."

C.C. obliged.

Shinji and Asuka descended. Like clockwork, two buildings slid open like cabinets to reveal palette rifles. Metal slugs the size of small animals clanged off the Angels' AT fields. The starfish-creatures fired back. Their blasts ripped holes in the asphalt, but the Evangelions flipped backward in what looked like a gymnast's floor routine.

"Well that's…"

"…ridiculous," C.C. finished.

"Indeed…"

A steel plate shot up between the Angels and the EVAs. It bent inward when the beams hit it, but didn't break. Our antagonists moved forward.

..And by "our antagonists", I mean the Angels. For now.

They slammed into the barrier like football players tackling a dummy, except that the target crumpled. No matter. Already, the EVAs had moved aside. Rocket batteries opened up from the pine trees. Smoke and fire obscured both enemies until the EVAs nailed them with axe kicks that knocked the Angels together again. Their bodies bubbled and fused like putty. Then came the coup de grace—flying kicks from both EVAs that cracked the core.

An explosion. The screen turned orange. As the smoke cleared, it revealed a crater with two EVAs piled on top of each other.

"Well, Mr. Lamperouge…it appears you've finally met your match when it comes to strategic genius."

I stood up and turned on the lights. C.C. feigned a look of disappointment.

"Going already?" she asked.

I rubbed my hands on a linen napkin to remove the remaining spots of popcorn grease.

"Cheer up," I said. "Just loop it fifty times and pretend I'm snarking at it."

The witch rolled her eyes. I opened the door.

"Oh, perfect," she said. "That's my idea of—"

The door slammed.

"—entertainment…"

* * *

You're probably wondering why I was in a foul mood. Normally, victory speeches are my bread and butter: they're an opportunity to gloat, inspire loyalty, and ham it up at the same time. Normally, though, I didn't have to give them to...

"LULU!" a voice squealed.

...Asuka.

She glomped onto my waist. I moved my mouth, but didn't have any air.

"Huh?" she said.

The pressure released. Sweet merciful heavens, that felt good…

"Hi, Asuka," I squeaked.

She widened her eyes in a way that she probably thought was cute, but actually looked like an electrocuted hamster.

"_H-i-i-i-y-a_ Lulu!"

I sighed a long-suffering sigh and patted her on the head. On my scale of underage-girls-who-are-creepily-attracted-to-me, Asuka ranked slightly ahead of Kaguya and far above Tianzi. Unlike Kaguya, I'd known Asuka since she arrived at the Britannian court as an emotionally shattered child…

Ergo, she was _my_ responsibility. Asuka exploited this fact with a ruthlessness that I would have admired if not for my bruised ribs.

I still remembered the day we'd met. She'd just come out of a testing room and asked me what the fourteenth clause of the Treaty of Khazur was. I'd told her it didn't matter, since the entire point of the test was to see how well she could figure out the answers from context clues _within _the test. She'd rolled her eyes and sniffed that she should have known better than to ask a _child_ about an important test like that. What did I know, anyway?

As it turned out, I'd designed the test.

Unfortunately, right now I needed her. Worse, she required careful handling. I quickened my pace. Since I'm roughly as athletic as an asthmatic mule, she kept up easily.

"So…" she said. "What did you think?"

I smiled and gave her a nonchalant nod.

"Not bad…not bad…"

Asuka skipped alongside me and swung my hand back and forth in her own. Her predatory grin widened.

"Not _bad_?!" she said. "I was _great_! _Wunderbar_—um…I mean…"

Her hand covered her mouth. She blushed and looked at me nervously.

"It's fine," I said. "I'm not one of your tutors. You can speak your native language if you want."

She blushed more deeply and took my hand again—this time, a little more gently.

"Thanks…" she said.

"You're welcome," I replied. "Just don't make it a habit. If they think you've relapsed…"

I let the statement hang in the air. It wasn't a threat, but a friendly warning. Asuka cringed, and her voice grew quiet.

"Let's use English," she said.

"Good idea."

Tokyo-3 wasn't designed for teenagers--especially teenagers who are trying _very_ hard to pamper an egotistical fourteen-year-old without making it seem like a date. As far as I could tell, businesses came in three flavors: cinemas, ramen, and ice cream. Oh, and a steak shop, but I couldn't imagine Asuka getting excited about _that_.

"Care for a walk?" I asked.

She nodded.

Tokyo-3 could be quite beautiful in the evenings. Even from the streets, we saw the sunlight dance across windows and turn the low-hanging stratus clouds purple with its shadows. On other buildings, horizontal crevices stood out, reminding me how closely some of the skyscrapers resembled filing cabinets.

For a while, we amused ourselves with an old game we'd played when we were children. We took turns. One of us pointed out people on the street, and the other tried to guess what country they came from by their gestures and cone of personal space.

Most of the time, we were right.

Hills hovered on the horizon. A few evenings ago, I had stood on one of those hills and looked at the city. I had realized, then, how concentrated the buildings had become. All of the skyscrapers stood in a cross-shaped pattern at the city center. A stone's throw away, the ground leveled off to a flat plane of airfields and suburbs. The buildings had looked brittle and isolated; as if a giant hand could sweep them away.

"The BNN wanted to run a story about you," I said.

The effect was immediate: Asuka let out a migraine-inducing _squee_ and wrapped herself around my arm like a boa constrictor. Probably for the best, I reflected. Without blood flow, I couldn't feel my joints being wrenched out of socket as she hopped up and down.

"The reporter's named Diethard Reid," I said. "Try to smile for the cameras."

Asuka rose to the challenge by flashing me a smirk. Behind us, I noticed a familiar pair of glasses—Makoto somebody-or-other. Well, well…Misato had her spies as well, evidently.

"I'm _really_ famous these days," Asuka said.

"Oh?"

We turned a corner. Makoto followed.

"Yep," Asuka said. "_Really_ famous…"

She put her hands behind her back and affected an offhand shrug. Unsuccessfully, I might add.

"…I even have my own _stalker_…"

Something about the way she'd said it bothered me—as if she was worried and trying to cover it up. In the back of my mind, alarm bells went off. I matched my tone to hers: free and easy.

"Go on," I said.

Asuka looked up at the skyline.

"Oh, nothing much," she said. "Real oddball…hasn't said anything to me yet, though. He has this long robe-thingy and a visor, and he's always wearing earphones—"

"Visor?" I said. "Like on a helmet?"

Asuka giggled—nervously. My tone must have betrayed concern.

"Don't be silly!" she said. "Who'd wear a helmet? It's just a visor. Kinda like sunglasses."

Behind us, I heard a muffled grunt as Sayoko clubbed Makoto whatever-his-name-was over the head and stuffed his unconscious body into a dumpster. His laundry bill would cost a little extra that evening. If necessary, Sayoko could do the same to Asuka's new 'friend'…or worse.

I decided to lighten the mood.

"Maybe he's the guy who's been selling pictures of you," I said.

Asuka blew on a strand of hair. It fell exactly where it had been.

"Nah," she said. "That was Kensuke."

"And…?"

A devilish grin appeared.

"Let's just say he's not going to be taking pictures for a while," she said.

"Ah…"

We were halfway across a street before I realized we'd crossed it. The light was green, but no horns honked because there weren't any cars. That's post-Second Impact for you…

"I heard you made the Student Council," I said.

She fiddled with her hair and met me with an upturned nose.

"Obviously," she said.

_Oh, good grief…_

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes.

"How is it?" I asked.

She tapped her finger on her lips.

"_W-e-l-l_…" she said. "Hikari's okay…Shirley's a bitch, and I hate Milly's stupid games, and Kallen's just so shy and _boring_ that it makes me sick…"

She paused for effect. I knew what was coming, which only made it worse. Like sitting on train tracks.

"…But it's great when _you're_ there!"

Cue another glomp.

After I wheezed myself back from the brink of a near-blackout, I turned the conversation to its _real_ purpose.

"How's the Third Child?" I asked.

Asuka raised an eyebrow.

"Bo-ring," she said. "Oh, stop looking at me like that. Fine, I guess. But nothing like—"

"Yeah, I know. Nothing like me. Listen, Asuka. We're playing high-level political games right now that I can't tell you about…"

Her eyes widened. The pressure on my knuckles increased until they nearly cracked. Apparently, adding the element of danger to my job transformed Asuka from a rabid fangirl to an even more rabid fangirl. (Still not as bad as Kaede, my Japanese secretary who liked to appear at parties with pink hair. But that's another story.)

On the other hand…

Whatever else could be said of Asuka, she knew her duty. Britannian or not, fourteen or not, she understood the tie of loyalty between a knight and her prince…which was exactly what we were.

Asuka had given the oath seven years ago, when she was barely old enough to understand it. All she'd known was that I was a nice prince who'd protected her from her Britannian "tutors".

By now, she understood its importance.

"What do you need me to do, Prince Lelouch?"

"It's…complicated," I said.

Asuka snorted.

"I'm a genius."

I laughed to myself, which earned me a _what's-so-funny?_ look.

"So am I," I said. "Unfortunately, our high IQ's don't particularly help us in this type of mission."

Asuka tilted her head to one side.

"Eh?"

"The Third Child is working with his father," I said. "I'm not sure what yet, but I _am _sure that he knows something."

"Something about what?" she asked.

"No idea."

Asuka rolled her eyes. I didn't blame her.

"Yeah," she grumbled. "That helps a bunch…"

"Basically, I want you to get close to him," I said. "Gain his confidence. Listen, though: whatever you do, _don't get emotionally involved with him_. Gendo might instruct Shinji to play on your part-Japanese ancestry. I know you're not keen on Britannia, but—"

"—But I'm loyal to you," she said.

I smiled and patted her on the shoulder. Just once, so it didn't seem patronizing.

"That's very nice to hear," I said.

"It's true."

Another awkward silence. She slapped me on the back.

"Don't worry--I won't get emotionally invested. You're talking to a human AT field."

Neither of us realized just how right she was. We walked in silence for a bit longer.

My phone rang: Nunnally, of all people. The call didn't last long—just a short "how are you?" from her and a "congratulations about Jetalot" from me. Asuka grimaced, but that was nothing new. She'd never liked Nunnally.

I only mention the call for a peculiar comment at the end:

"Lelouch?"

"Yeah, Nunnally?"

"About C.C…."

"Yes?"

My sister hesitated a moment. She spoke carefully, like a sixth grader at a spelling bee.

"She…um…gets along well with you…" she said.

Asuka stared at me. She must have caught my look of puzzlement.

"Er...I should hope so," I said. "She's my former governess, after all…"

"Oh, I suppose…but that's not exactly what I'm trying to....I mean, C.C. doesn't express her emotions very well…not like normal girls…"

Apparently, my sister had decided to waste valuable phone time belaboring the obvious.

"Heh…you're telling _me_," I said.

To my surprise, I heard an angry huff on the other end.

"You're hopeless!" she snapped. "Someday, Lelouch, you're going to regret spending _so_ much time playing your stupid political games that you ignore the only person—"

"Sorry, Nunnally, but I'm not sure what you—"

"AUGH!"

The line went dead.

"Well, that was peculiar…" I said.

* * *

_**From:** __Brit--Mil--Attache--NERV1--Tokyo3—SECURECHAN_

_**To:** __Odysseus--eu--Britannia--TravelSecretariat—SECURECHAN_

_Odysseus,_

_Get Asuka's father out of the E.U. if possible. As long as they hold that game piece, they can capture our knight…_

_--Lelouch_

_

* * *

  
_

[BALTHASAR]: _As before?_

[CASPER]: _Confirm._

[MELCHIOR]: _Confirm._


	7. Chapter 7: Rei

**Chapter 7: Rei**

Left kick—right kick—left kick—right kick…

Surface. Breathe. Dive.

Left kick—right kick—left kick—right kick…

Surface. Breathe….

Pilot Ikari's keystrokes echoed against the sea-green tiles immediately to his right. His brow furrowed. He sat in a chair—aluminum, hollow, its seat and back composed of plastic bands. Normally, it would belong on the beach. This may have been humor on Pilot Ikari's part.

On each side of me, plastic dividers bobbed in the water. All were restrained by the rope that threaded through them so that they could not leave their places. And neither did I.

Dive.

Left kick—right kick—left kick—right kick…

Circles reflected on the water's surface—one ahead of me, one behind. Lamps shone above us from steel beams in the ceiling. Or, rather, they shone on me, since Shinji did not wish to swim with me…

…A mistake. I should have said "Ikari" a moment ago.

A voice, nasal and slightly shrill, spoke. I surfaced.

Pilot Sohryu stood next to Pilot Ikari. She wore a bathing suit that showed him more of her figure than mine did—red and white, like the pool dividers. Sunglasses sat on her head, although the room was cold.

The room was also a room, and therefore indoors. And yet, there were the sunglasses…

Ikari complained of a particularly tricky problem. I could have answered it for him earlier, but I had not known about it because he had not asked me. Pilot Sohryu responded less positively than I would have, expressing her disbelief by rolling her eyes. She placed her hands on her hips and bent over Ikari's laptop, presumably to afford him a better view of her chest.

"_That's_ giving you trouble?" she said. "I figured that stuff out when I was _nine_—"

"Are Britannian textbooks written obscurely?" I asked.

She half-turned in my direction, eyebrow raised.

"Uh…no, Wondergirl. They're not. And if you're trying to imply—"

"I imply nothing," I said. "I merely point out that if the textbook authors wrote clearly, then your pride in understanding them is unwarranted."

Her voice took a higher pitch. She laughed.

"What would a doll know about _pride_?" she said.

I swam to the edge of the pool. Interlaced patterns of light wobbled on the wall from the water, and tiles were slippery. This was not an undue hindrance, however.

"I know that you take pride in attainments that are not your own, Pilot Sohryu," I said. "Your beauty, your intelligence—these things are yours. You do not, however, value these things. Rather, you value things that are _not_ your own: others' praise of your beauty. Others' appreciation for your education."

Pilot Sohryu crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her chin upward. Scorn.

"Tell me something, Wondergirl: Are you an idiot?"

I shrugged. The water sloshed around my shoulders.

"I merely decline to affect knowledge that I do not have," I replied.

This did not seem to mollify her. That, however, was hardly a cause for concern. Pilot Sohryu looked briefly at Shinji, who said nothing, and then stepped over to the side of the pool. Her feet slapped the watery tile.

"Why on earth would I take pride in being smart or pretty if other people didn't care?" she said.

"Why indeed? That is precisely my point."

Pilot Sohryu smirked. It was an expression of a superior to an inferior.

"You know something, Ayanami?" she said. "People used to tell me that I should _live_ before I die. I didn't quite understand that phrase until I met _you_."

"Return," I replied.

"Huh?"

"'Return'," I said. "Not 'die'. We hold our souls by the grace of the Unmoved Mover, not our own efforts."

Pilot Sohryu scoffed.

"R-i-i-i-ght," she said. "And I supposed it'd be just fine with you if you 'returned' your soul to an Angel, huh?"

I leaned back, allowing my body to float until the water filled my ears and the sounds around me became mumbles. I became conscious of the contrast—one half of my body dry and warm, the other cold and wet. Then wet and dry merged. At the boundary, the water's surface tension gave it the feeling of a viscous coating that could be easily sloughed off.

"Since the soul is not mine to begin with, it does not concern me how the universe chooses to repossess it," I replied.

Pilot Sohryu pointed a finger at me. Her voice warbled through the water.

"You _are_ weird," she said.

I did not reply.

"Well, _children_…I'm leaving," she said.

Roughly, she snatched a towel that she had laid on Shinji's table and slammed the door. I raised myself out of the water and toweled the drops off.

"Rei, that was a little insensitive," Shinji said.

_Do not turn your thoughts to earning the praise of others, but bear everything with equanimity, as a philosopher might…Do not turn your thoughts—_

"I wish you'd get along better with her," he said. "I mean, she's not as bad as all that…"

He looked at the ceiling, tapping his pencil on his lips as he spoke.

_Do not turn your thoughts--_

"The insult does not lie in my words, but in her opinion of my words," I replied. "If she did not consider them insulting, she would not—"

"Rei…"

Pilot Ikari's voice was strained. His hands clenched and unclenched in a gesture that indicated stress. It had been the first thing I had noticed about him, years ago. A nervous boy my age, with wide brown eyes.

"I…very well, Shin—Pilot Ikari. I will…get along better with her."

He sighed.

"Thanks, Rei."

"You are welcome."

His laptop clicked shut. I watched him as he followed Sohryu out. Water dripped from my hair.

An empty room.

* * *

The meeting had been over for a long time. I stood in the dark after the other pilots had left. My feet rested on one of two white strips which bordered the floor's projection of the Eighth Angel, which was curled up, embryonic. The screen gave off light that was brown inside darker brown—the first from the embryo's surroundings, the second from its yolk. Its spinal cord resembled the serrated teeth of a steak knife.

"Commander," I said.

His face was illuminated, while the sides and back of his head remained in shadow.

"Yes?" he said.

I thought about the girl, her orange hair browned by the darkness a moment ago. Commander Ikari had chosen her. When she had teased me about her new assignment, her bangs had shaded her eyes like a raccoon's. This had not been particularly attractive.

"I wish to go on the mission instead of Pilot Sohryu," I said.

The Commander's expression did not change.

"Too dangerous," he said.

"As you have told me, Commander: I am a ship's passenger on the shore waiting to be called back," I said. "I pass my death daily before my eyes, imagining…"

A small smile appeared on his lips.

"That will do," he said.

"Yes, Commander," I said.

He crossed his hands behind his back and turned away from me. White gloves bobbed up and down.

"I'll say one thing for you, Pilot Ayanami," he said. "You know your duty. I do not intend to sacrifice you for two reasons. First, your EVA cannot use diving equipment."

"I could use Unit One, Commander."

Commander Ikari's head turned quickly, meeting my eyes. He scowled.

"No," he said. "You may _not_."

I bowed my head.

"I apologize."

The seconds clicked by….

"Very well," he said. "And the second reason is simpler: Asuka is Lelouch's pawn. She is therefore highly expendable."

"Commander, I am also—"

"_Dismissed_, Pilot Ayanami."

* * *

Lava bubbled below us.

"Isn't _Lelouch_ here?" Pilot Sohryu whined.

A moment later, a voice on the communication system assured her that Prince Lelouch was indeed there—and ready to give advice when necessary. This touched off a round of bickering between Prince Lelouch and Operations Director Misato about jurisdiction.

Not an auspicious beginning.

Bombers screamed through the sky. If we failed, FLEIJAs would rain down on the Angel until the area became a crater. In all likelihood, this would destroy us as well.

Pilot Ikari's face appeared on my screen.

"Figures that my father would order something like that…" he muttered.

"Duties are measured by your relationship to others," I replied. "Your duties to Commander Ikari are as a son to a father, not as a son to an _affectionate_ father."

Pilot Ikari rested his elbows on his thighs and his head on his palms.

"Sometimes I just don't get you, Rei."

Despite the lack of humor in the situation, the sides of my mouth twitched.

"That is obvious enough, Pilot Ikari…"

The crane's machinery cranked Pilot Sohryu into the magma. She performed a split with her EVA which, thanks to the puffy magma suit, did not appear overly graceful.

_Rate of descent: steady_

_Visibility: zero_

Maya calmly kept us informed of Sohryu's progress.

Depth was four hundred.

Depth was four hundred and fifty.

Depth was five hundred.

Depth was five hundred and fifty.

Depth was six hundred.

Depth was six hundred and fifty.

At one thousand, Pilot Sohryu's armor plinked and groaned as the pressure mounted. At thirteen hundred, Sohryu's screen showed only a red haze. Lelouch argued with Misato in the background. She wanted to continue; he was concerned for Pilot Sohryu's safety.

…And doubtless the EVA as well.

A crack appeared on the second coolant pipe. Sweat dripped down Sohryu's forehead. A _splink_ sounded like breaking glass.

"Eva Unit Two has lost its progressive knife…"

Depth was sixteen hundred.

Depth was seventeen hundred and eighty. The Pilot had reached the required depth.

Transparent shields closed around the egg. The black sphere dwarfed the EVA, even with the latter's suit. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when the crane engaged. Pilot Ikari asked Pilot Sohryu how she was doing, and received Sohryu's assurances that she wished for nothing more than to take a cold shower when she emerged from the volcano.

A klaxon sounded.

An angel roared.

The embryo's silhouette warped and remolded into something with tentacles. Moments later, the cage shattered. A dark mass of teeth, claws, and wing-like limbs the size of skyscrapers shrieked toward Pilot Sohryu. She dodged, barely. The form disappeared into the lava again like something in the mist.

The EVA's fingers clinked together. They were grabbing for a progressive knife that wasn't there. And Pilot Sohryu was still attached to the restraints.

"Dropping the knife!" Pilot Ikari shouted.

The Angel emerged from the magma.

Its mouth gaped. The thing had no jaw—just a circular opening with hair-like antennae growing out of its rim. It sucked the EVA's head into its body just as the knife dropped. The knife stabbed, and bounced off.

"It's hardened itself!"

I heard another voice over our speakers. A face appeared to match it: admirably calm. Purple eyes.

"Asuka?"

"Prince Lelouch!?! How do I—"

"Jam your coolant tube into it. Thermal expansion will follow, at which point—"

"_Scheiss_! Of course!"

Pilot Sohryu thrust the tube into the Angel's mouth. It screamed, and at the same time the progressive knife plunged deep. Sparks flew—though in a volcano, this seemed odd.

"Die!"

And it did. Its arms melted away from its core and dissolved into black bits that floated away.

I exhaled, and told myself that it was not relief.

* * *

**___GIkari:_** Your sons are getting suspicious.

**_H.R.M. CdiB:_** What of it?

_**GIkari:**_ Schneizel knows about the Scrolls. How long before he figures out that we're intercepting his communications?

**_H.R.M. CdiB:_** The Nevada MAGI are supposedly secure. He will not become alarmed unless you seriously blunder. Have your MAGI write something back and stop bothering me.

**_GIkari:_** And you're sure about the MAGI technicians in NERV Nevada?

**_H.R.M. CdiB:_** They rerouted his message to Melchior, didn't they? I told you: they're loyal.

**_GIkari:_** For _now_, perhaps…

**_H.R.M. CdiB:_** "Now" is all we need, Mr. Ikari.


	8. Chapter 8: Nunnally

**Chapter 8: Nunnally**

**

* * *

**

JETALOT PROJECT IN PERIL?

_As Nunnally vi Britannia could tell you, the top is a lonely place. With Jetalot days away from entering service officially, questions have emerged about the young princess's leadership abilities. Most come from Guinevere su Britannia, Britannia's First Princess and Odysseus's most ardent supporter. Yet her brother didn't want Jetalot in the first place—a detail that Guinevere seems to have ignored in her campaign to remove her younger sister from the project._

"_Nunnally vi Britannia has displayed her incompetence on numerous occasions," the First Princess opined in an interview, yesterday. "If rumors from Jetalot's all-too-rare social functions are any indication, my sister is coming apart at the seams. Some people just aren't cut out for leadership roles."_

_But, she adds, "People like that should step aside for those who __are__ prepared to lead. My brother, for instance."_

_Sour grapes? The gossip columnists think so, but this writer isn't so sure. Palace insiders point to several changes in the Eleventh Princess's behavior since the Angels reappeared. Only time will tell._

_The HERALD wishes her well._

_

* * *

  
_

'Horrible,' I had called it.

'Necessary,' Cornelia had replied.

…And I suppose it was, or I wouldn't have come along. Avalon's air conditioning kept us comfortable despite Saitama's winter heat wave. Our troops showed up as triangles on a neon checkerboard. They might as well have been noughts and crosses. To _play_ with people that way…like a game…

Something within me rebelled at the idea.

* * *

_Third Impact is over. My problems are just beginning._

_Bodies sprawl in the streets. On the left, they wear imitations of clothing from Areas Four or Five. On the right, Area Twelve. They have been dead several hours, and much of their blood has dried. Their deaths are still written on them: bullet holes, crushed skulls from clubs, sliced muscles from knives and broken glass. _

_Another riot. _

_Jeremiah's voice calls me into the future with a gentle "ahem…"_

"_Yes?" I say._

"_This cannot continue, Your Majesty."_

_I wring my hands and feel sick…then actually vomit. I'm shivering more than I did in the winter before Second Impact. _

_Lloyd speaks. His voice is languid, and I do not know him well enough yet to recognize his undertone of concern._

"_Hem…Your Majesty knows that I wouldn't presume, b-u-u-u-u-t…"_

"_What?" I say. _

_He pushes his glasses up. Hands behind his back, he paces in front of me. Stops. Looks back._

"_If you don't put a stop to this soon, the warlords will take NERV Boston," he says._

"_And civilization," Jeremiah adds._

"…_And civilization," Lloyd says. "Or what's left of it…"_

_I don't like the way that one of the bodies is staring at me. It seems like an accusation. He's seventeen or thereabouts; blond, though his hair is greasy. Hazel eyes. A knot-work cross hangs around his neck, marking him as one of our former Scandinavian subjects. I try to throw my own accusation back at him: Why won't you get along? CAN'T you get along?! How hard is it—_

_Jeremiah's voice grows louder. _

"_Your Majesty knows that I'm perfectly willing to die for you," he says. "If you wish to commit suicide by letting this go unchecked, I cannot contradict—"_

_My fingers tighten on his shoulder. All at once, my body slumps when it feels the extra support. Jeremiah holds me up. I turn and look at our waiting knightmare, trying to focus every crumb of awareness on it. I tell myself how interesting its contours are, how enthralling they are, and how they're in the other direction from…_

"_You have my authorization to use force," I say. "Take—take me home, please…"_

_I'm fifteen, if you're curious._

_

* * *

  
_

I felt something warm on my shoulder, and looked up. Euphie's cool blue eyes greeted me. As was becoming increasingly common these days, they were wide with concern.

"Nunnally? Are you—"

I looked around. Technicians scampered from the control panel to the map on the far wall. Was I still solid enough to…? Yes. I was still resting on the silk-blend cushion on the back of my chair—a rotating one, so I could spin in it if I felt like it. That's what I told them, anyway, and maybe it was true.

"I'm…fine," I said.

Euphie nodded, but chewed on her lip.

"Really," I said. "I'm fine. Just ducky. Fine…"

Our troops were moving. Narita's hills had dried out in Second Impact's eternal summer. A few clumps of grass straggled along the hillside, but they might as well have been clumps of moss on sand. Britannian knightmares kicked up clouds of dust that covered the battlefield in a brown haze.

Far away, Britannian hostages were being held in a skyscraper. Tohdoh had taken them as a diversion—dishonorable, perhaps, but he was desperate. He needed to pull his forces out of Narita quickly. Unfortunately, I knew that Tohdoh wouldn't kill them. And because I knew, so did Cornelia.

The JLF met our first wave as it clambered up the hillside. The new Japanese cannons shredded us—our soldiers' first taste of the weapons their comrades would face in a few hours when they stormed the hotel. Knightmares exploded. The smoke from their burning fuel mixed with dust. Under the hail of fire, our attack wavered.

Cornelia clicked the button on her microphone.

"Dorothea, Gino: hit them at E-6."

Strange. Even in battle, we used chess terminology—a relic of the winnowing process when we were children. Chess was supposed to reveal strategic skills and coolness under pressure, with the added bonus that our statisticians could measure it. Two numbers had dominated our early lives: our IQs and our ELO ratings.

The game had also constricted our ability to improvise. I have often wondered what would have happened if one of us had developed his talents outside of the 64-square world of Britannian education. He could have probably defeated all of us. Too late now...

Inside-the-box thinking worked well enough for Narita. In Jominian style, Cornelia had sensed their weakest point and thrown our best against it. Gino and Dorothea cut, shot, and burned their way through the JLF. Gino's MVS sawed the few Japanese knightmares in half, and their pilots with them. Fin-stabilized discarding sabot rounds clanged off of his armor. In response, Gino's rifle blew holes through Narita's ramparts, reaching the knightmares behind them.

And then, one by one, the blue dots around Gino blinked out of existence.

"What's happening?" my sister yelled.

Gino was too busy to respond. He appeared on our screen moments later, measuring up an opponent in a black Guren: Tohdoh. The Guren stood upright with its legs close together, moving in short steps. Tohdoh's sword hung low at his waist, pointed at Gino but relaxed. By comparison, the Knight of Three stalked Tohdoh from a crouch. He held his sword high, shoulders tight, with most of his weight on his front leg.

Cornelia's eyes widened.

"Where did Tohdoh get that knightmare?!"

"China," I said. "Via Le Xingke acting on Gendo's orders, but that's not important right now."

Gino circled to Tohdoh's right with long steps that crossed and uncrossed his legs. Both feinted—Tohdoh with subtle flicks of his wrist, Gino with half-lunges that stopped short.

Gino attacked. Their blades tangled for a moment. Tohdoh lost leverage, and his sword barely made a dent in the Tristan's shoulder armor. Gino's luck wasn't much better. His blade moved upward and dug into Tohdoh's neck with a drawing cut. It would have killed a human being. The Guren shrugged it off.

When they separated, Tohdoh struck back. Gino ducked a moment too soon and landed a half-hearted cut on Tohdoh's chest that dented the armor but didn't break it. Tohdoh's sword smashed into the Tristan's head.

_Finis._

An escape pod blasted off from Gino's knightmare. Tohdoh let him go.

"Time for Plan B," I said.

I hit the intercom.

"Suzaku?"

"Yes, Princess Nunnally?"

I sighed.

"It's your turn," I said. "And I'm just 'Nunnally', if you don't mind."

"Right," he said.

A giant rose behind us. Its segmented arms swung like an ape's. Inside, though nobody could hear it, Lloyd's scaled-up Yggdrasil drive hummed as it sent power throughout Jetalot's body. Clad in chobham and depleted uranium armor and standing two hundred feet tall, Euphie's knight thudded toward Narita.

_Everything_ stopped.

That was a mistake on the JLF's part. The screen on Jetalot's head shimmered. It raised its hand as bars on a spiral energy gauge flashed up to maximum. The indicator light switched from red to green with a bell tone.

"Fire," I said.

Beams shot from both hands, sweeping the redoubts. Wherever the white light passed, it left bubbling pools of metal—tanks, planes, knightmares and guns reduced to sludge.

Knightmares fired from a low ridge to Suzaku's right. He melted them.

"Ve—ry good," said Cornelia, turning away. "Jetalot's first combat test is a success. Continue the—"

A frustrated growl sounded over the loudspeakers. Cornelia's eyes snapped to the screen, where Jetalot was frantically clawing at its body as if trying to brush off ants.

"Pilot Kururugi!" Cornelia said. "What's going on?"

Euphie's hands clasped over her mouth.

"There," she said.

A red Guren swung from Jetalot's arm, to its leg, to its arm again like a gibbon. Wherever it landed, it plunged its hand into one of the segmented joints. The metal fizzed. Then the Guren would swing to the next joint, leaving a welded mess behind.

Jetalot's swings became jerky, slow. Tohdoh's forces used the opportunity to withdraw. And still, the remaining Knights of the Round hung back.

"Nonette!" Cornelia shouted.

No answer.

"Luciano, respond! What are you doing?"

No answer.

"Monica!"

My sister banged the control panel, her voice steadily rising to parade ground level.

"Nonette! Luciano, RESPOND you stupid bastard! Monica! Nonette!"

It was Euphie who realized what was going on.

"No…" she whispered. "Purists. They're all Purists…"

Cornelia's jaw tightened, along with every other muscle in her body. She hit the comm button one more time. Unlike my brothers, Cornelia did not appreciate subtlety during combat.

Jetalot ground to a halt and tipped over. Its fall sounded like an explosion.

"If you sacrifice Jetalot _and_ the only chance to crush the JLF in order to kill Suzaku, I'll have you all flayed alive!" Cornelia shouted. "D'you hear me? You think your judicial immunity'll help you?! Should I tell you _exactly_ how my father's going to deal with you when I report this?!"

So there it was, in the open. The Rounds' communication systems miraculously came back on line.

"Sorry, Your Highness. Electronic interference…"

"EMP blast…"

"Equipment malfunction…most regrettable…"

By now, Kyoshiro Tohdoh's forces were in full retreat. The Rounds arrived in time to save Suzaku, but too late to save Jetalot, and _far_ too late to destroy the JLF. Repairing our robot would take months.

I hate politics. _Hate_ it.

* * *

_I knock twice. The raps echo on the other side of the door, but there's no answer until I open it. The hinges don't squeal like our old ones at Pendragon Palace. No, NERV wouldn't build squeaky hinges. They were very modern, those NERV engineers._

"_C.C.?" I call._

_The girl doesn't look up. She runs her hands through green hair that hasn't touched shampoo in months. Around her, childish scrawls are chalked onto the floor—all vaguely resembling Father's hieroglyphs. And a face, repeated on the walls fifty times…sixty…_

"_I'm…she's…not quite," C.C. says._

_I set the tray down in front of her. Steam rises. The scent of tomato sauce, garlic and melted cheese wafts through the air—it has taken me weeks to set up the infrastructure to prepare it to pre-Impact standards._

_C.C. doesn't look at it. Instead, her hand brushes across the chalked face. She wrinkles her nose when the chalk smudges, then painstakingly draws over the smudge. And again. And again._

_She eyes me suspiciously, as if I'm planning to erase the drawing, then nods toward the pizza._

"_From…him?" she asks._

"_From me," I say. "He's still in the—"_

_C.C.'s reply is clipped._

"_Food's not needed, then," she says._

_C.C. stands up and walks to the far end of the room to retouch another picture. _

"_Work to do…work to do..." she hums._

"_But—"_

"_He'll want to see it when he comes," she says._

_Then she stops, clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth._

"…_Wasn't interested before, though…was he? No, not before Impact…It'll rain again tonight …Said that already, though…I--"_

_Ever so slightly, C.C.'s voice seems to crack…or maybe I'm just projecting my own feelings onto her. __I find myself wondering if the half of her soul stuck in Instrumentality is any happier. __She breaks off, shaking her head, and retreats behind the curtain that surrounds her bed. I look at the drawing; one of many. It's simple—chalk for the face, charcoal for the eyes and hair, though the edges blur into gray where C.C. has rubbed her hands on it. I can still see the fingerprints.  
_

"_Not here to protect me __now__, are you?" I say. "What was the use of everything if you're just going to sit in that filthy ocean forever?!"_

_My voice has become high-pitched--too high for an Empress. Or whatever I am. I rub my eyes on my sleeve and close the door behind me. The picture does not respond. Benignly, my brother's face watches me as I go._

_I'm twenty-something. Five? Six?_

_

* * *

  
_

"Nunnally?"

"Fine!" I snapped. "I'm…"

Cornelia and Euphie both looked at each other. We were alone.

"…fine."

A pause.

"Cornelia?" I said.

My sister winced, giving me one of those strained 'understanding' looks that I'd started to resent.

"Yes?" she said.

"When I was young…How did I act?"

Any pretence of a smile vanished from Cornelia's face.

"Like Nunnally," she said.

_Who? _

Ah, yes. Nunnally: the chipper girl who Cornelia and Lelouch had shielded from the world's nasty realities. I shook my head and rubbed the bridge of my nose, but my head ached just the same.

"And what was she like, exactly?" I asked.

Cornelia opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, then closed it again. Her hand brushed my cheek before she hurried out.

The door slammed.

"You could have handled that better," Euphemia said.

I held out my arm, inviting Euphie's hand to rest in my own. She took it.

"I need…"

"What?" she said.

_Sleep?_

_No. No more of __that__._

"Sit with me, Euphie. Please."


	9. Chapter 9: Shinji

**Chapter 9: Shinji**

**

* * *

  
**

_**GIkari:** _Your daughter paid me a visit tonight.

**_H.R.M. CdiB:_** Cornelia?

_**GIkari:** _Yes. And the Glaston Knights.

_**H.R.M. CdiB:** _You're uninjured, I hope?

_**GIkari:**_ Aside from three cracked ribs, a broken arm, bruises on my face, a missing tooth…

**_H.R.M. CdiB:_** Get to the point, Mr. Ikari.

_**GIkari:**_ Deal with her. Now.

**_H.R.M. CdiB:_** Your ties to the JLF are well known. My daughter's reaction was understandable, although somewhat excessive.

_**GIkari:**_ She threatened the Children.

_**H.R.M. CdiB:**_ Absurd.

_**GIkari:**_ Precisely. Only a fool would believe that threatening humanity's last line of defense was a plausible threat. And your daughter is no fool.

**_H.R.M. CdiB:_** Unless…

_**GIkari:**_ Yes.

**_H.R.M. CdiB:_** I'll deal with the situation.

* * *

A dark shape moved through the city. As I crouched behind a skyscraper, I could hear the Angel grunt and pant. It cast a long shadow. Reflected in a thousand glass windows, I saw its bristly hairs stand on end.

A girl's face appeared on my screen: high cheekbones, blue eyes, flowing red hair. All that stuff. She spoke in a low growl; I swear I could hear her teeth grind.

"Ready?" she asked.

I did a mental inventory:

_Pallet rifle loaded._

_Prog knife ready to engage._

_Target's location confirmed…_

"I dunno," I said. "It's actually pretty cute. I mean, I'd feel kinda bad if—"

A flood of German profanity stopped me before I got further. Thirty seconds later, she switched to Britannian profanity, though the content was fairly similar.

"Okay, okay!" I said. "Fine!"

We moved quickly. Asuka dove from behind the Britannian National Bank and put two rounds between the thing's eyes. An orange hexagon appeared, and the shells bounced off. The creature sneered at us, clicking its long yellow incisors together in what almost seemed like laughter.

"_Scheiss!_"

"Neutralize the field!" I yelled.

Unit 02 thrust its hands through the AT field and pulled it apart like a pair of curtains. The Angel leaped at her. They tumbled into a parking garage in a whirl of steel, fur, and claws. Asuka thrust her progressive knife into its stomach. It gripped the blade in one of its padded pink claws and wrenched it from Asuka's grip. With its other arm, the Angel raked Unit-02's eyes and sank its teeth into its chest a moment later. Asuka screamed in sympathetic pain.

"GET OVER HERE, DUMMKOPF!"

"Er…okay, sorry."

The Angel's back was still turned toward me. I stomped a metal foot into its spine. Hard. A crunch followed, and the thing screamed once and fell silent. While I held the Angel down, my fellow pilot sawed through the core with her progressive knife until the creature stopped twitching.

Asuka appeared on my screen. Her eyes had a hollow, empty look.

"That was quite possibly the most disturbing thing I've ever done," she said.

I looked down at the corpse. It was already vanishing along with the rest of the city as the simulator shut down. A blonde, dark-skinned woman with a silver opium pipe between her lips appeared on our screens. Her voice was languid, bored.

"Oh, come on," she said. "It wasn't a _real_ hamster…"

"You're sick!" Asuka shouted. "You hear me? SICK!"

I laughed nervously and made my obligatory attempt to calm her down.

"At least it wasn't the pink dragon from last week," I said.

"Or the puppy from yesterday," Rei added.

"Or that scientist guy with glasses who threw molten pudding," I said. "Holy shit, that was a weird battle…."

"Indeed," said Rei.

Asuka continued glaring daggers at Rakshata's image. As far as she was concerned, the Jetalot Project's scientist-on-loan was the worst thing to ever happen to the NERV…as she reminded us at Every. Single. Practice.

"Could be worse," I said.

Asuka raised her eyebrow. Rakshata looked at me intently.

"No, really," I said. "I mean…What if she made us fight fake monsters like Godzilla or the Stay-P—"

"QUIET!" Asuka screamed.

* * *

It took fifteen minutes to wash the stink of LCL from my body. Even then, I knew that I would smell blood for the next few hours, since dried bits of primordial goo still clung to the insides of my nostrils. The smell fused with the "fresh mint" soap I'd used in the shower, creating a surprisingly disgusting blend.

I'd forgotten my shoes. The flip-flops I'd worn in the shower moistened the bottom of my pant legs and made wet smacks as I walked.

"Pilot Ikari?"

Rei's voice.

She stood in the hallway, hands behind her back, legs crossed—graceful and awkward at the same time, if you see what I mean. Her hair was still wet from the showers, which made it seem longer. It hung over her eyes, but she didn't bother brushing it away.

"Yes?"

"I wish…I wish to speak to you, Pilot Ikari."

"Um, sure," I said.

She walked alongside me in brisk steps that didn't echo. We boarded the escalator and began our descent. Floors passed us slowly, each marked by an intersection of ribbed metal columns and horizontal bars that bridged between them. Each bar fit onto a rib like a puzzle piece. To my surprise, Rei also looked at the scenery…which was a relief, since her thousand-yard-stare could get a little creepy when she fixed it on me.

"So, uh--"

"Pilot Ikari," she said. "Pilot Sohryu mentioned a series of incidents from her childhood that…troubled me."

I leaned on the railing. On each side of the rubber hand-rest, cold metal brushed my fingers. I crossed my arms so that they lay entirely on the rubber, giving the illusion of a stationary support.

Rei waited.

And waited.

"Okay," I said.

And waited.

"I'm listening, Rei. Go on."

"Pilot Sohryu discussed Britannian conditioning techniques," she said.

"You mean exercise?"

"No."

"Then what?" I asked.

"Limited food, sleep, light, and sensory stimulation, combined with isolation," Rei said.

"Oh…"

"To deal with this stress, they taught her simple affirmations and assisted her in constructing a Britannian identity that incorporated a considerable degree of honor-consciousness," she said.

To be honest, I wasn't sure I was comfortable talking about Asuka's childhood. Or the way the conversation was going…

"Sounds intense," I said.

Rei gave me a look that I couldn't quite read. Then again, that was pretty typical.

"Yes," she said.

A gap opened in the conversation. I wanted to let it go, but…

"Asuka doesn't seem like the type to change her life that easily," I said.

Rei's hand twitched. She was digging her fingernails into her palm for some reason.

"It occurred gradually," she said. "Her actions slowly became consistent with her new identity until they seemed inevitable outgrowths of her revised personality."

_And __what__ exactly is this about, again…?_

Now her red eyes _were_ boring into me. I vacillated between looking away and meeting her gaze. The first would be rude; the second uncomfortable. I settled for looking at a point above her left shoulder, which in retrospect was both rude and uncomfortable. She didn't complain.

"That…um…weird?" I offered.

She nodded. Waited.

"So Asuka's better now?" I said.

"She claims that Prince Lelouch managed to effect a partial rehabilitation," she said.

There it was: a sinking feeling in my stomach that Father had always told me to listen to.

_Careful…_

"Oh," I said. "So I guess it worked for her. That's good…"

"Yes."

An oddity: Rei's expression became almost readable. It seemed insistent, as if she was wishing for me to say something; and I thought I knew what it was. I'd only seen that look from Rei once before, when I'd found Naoko Akagi strangling her. I'd cried out, then, but Dr. Akagi hadn't stopped.

Time for another failure. I mentally kicked myself for what I was about to do.

"I…uh…hope it didn't impair her job performance," I said. "I mean, when he cured her. Maybe…maybe the Britannians did the conditioning stuff for her own good to—um—help with the EVA and stuff."

Rei blinked. Her expression—and maybe I'd just imagined it in the first place—vanished instantly.

"That is true," she said slowly. "The thought had not occurred to me."

"I'm…um…glad to help," I said.

Rei looked down at the pleats in her skirt and didn't speak for the rest of the trip. I tried to keep my eyes off of her palms.

_Shinji, you son of a bitch_, I thought.

* * *

Ashford Academy: a neutral area that both sides' intelligence services stayed away from. Section 2 had scoured the place for bugs and security cameras after the Britannians had brought it into Tokyo-3 brick by brick. Britannia's secret police had done the same.

We stood in the student council chamber—a white room with gold patterns carved into the walls. A chandelier hung above us, casting little rainbows from the faceted glass balls that hung from its arms. A girl stared at me with her hands on her hips.

"_You're_ my contact? An eighth grader?"

I held out my hand.

"Shinji Ikari," I said. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Stadtfeld."

Kallen's eyes narrowed.

"Kozuki. My last name's 'Kozuki'."

"Sorry," I said.

After she left my hand hanging for a while longer, I lowered it. In some ways, Kallen reminded me of an eighteen year old Asuka: wide blue eyes, red hair, long, long legs…

I looked away before she caught me staring. My downward gaze gave me a great view of Kallen's foot as she tapped it impatiently.

"Well?" she said.

"My father…um…"

"Yes?"

"He got your workweek reduced."

"I can see that," she said.

"And…yeah…he wants you to meet Asuka. That's why we got you a place on the student council."

Kallen rolled her eyes and groaned.

"You must be joking," she said. "I didn't come here to make friends with Britannians."

"We believe that Lelouch is trying to subvert Rei through Asuka," I said. "We need a counterweight, which means going after Asuka directly. She's half Japanese and shares your interest in piloting, so we figured—"

"You figured that I should manipulate a socially inept fourteen year old girl," Kallen said.

"Um…yeah."

Kallen sighed. I already knew that she'd do it; Kallen owed my father everything after he'd freed her mother from Britannia's drug enforcement authorities.

"Will it help us get Japan back?" she asked.

"Yes, Miss St—Kozuki," I said.

"Then I'll do it. Just tell me—"

A chorus of cheers interrupted her.

The student council filtered in, champagne bottles in hand (except for Lelouch, whose hands were thoroughly occupied with trying to keep Asuka off). Hikari stood at attention by the door. As Class Representative, Britannian Education Statute #405 required Hikari to give a daily report of Japanese students' "sedition" to Milly—a duty that our President avoided whenever possible. Unfortunately, that meant that Hikari would be waiting for a long time.

Rolo wasn't there. At the time, I didn't think that this was significant.

Rather than acknowledge Hikari, Milly occupied herself by whacking Prince Lelouch over the head with a rolled-up newspaper and making inappropriate comments about Shirley's cup size. Somebody opened the drapes. Light flooded in from the clover-shaped windows while Milly, Nunnally, and Lelouch laid hors d'œuvre on the table.

I heard the high-pitched buzz of a television being turned on, and a few seconds later Schneizel's face appeared on the massive plasma screen that Milly had installed on the far wall—probably from Equestrian Club funds, though nobody had ever proved it. In that eerily calm voice of his, Schneizel announced that the Purists would be putting together a political party. Odysseus and Guinevere had already thrown their support behind it. So had Schneizel.

Lelouch stopped when he heard that, not bothering to push Asuka away when she attached herself to his arm. The champagne in his glass sloshed on his student's uniform, followed by Asuka's babbled apologies.

He didn't seem to hear her.

"You okay, buddy?"

Suzaku put a hand on Lelouch's shoulder, which seemed to snap him out of it.

"Unexpected move," Lelouch muttered.

The green-haired girl sat in a corner of the room, watching us as she munched on a pizza bagel. Her eyes met mine. They were yellow, like a cat's, and in their own way just as unnerving as Rei's. I looked away.

Schneizel said something about the national debt when the screen went black. All over Ashford, the lights turned off.

In the distance, an Angel howled.

* * *

_Kaji:_

_Contact me when you've assembled the data I asked for. _

_--Nunnally_

"


	10. Chapter 10: Shinji

**Chapter 10: Shinji**

* * *

_**SEELE-01-Lorenz:**_ It's done.

_**SEELE-02-Mathers:**_ How long before Tokyo-3 comes back on line?

_**SEELE-01-Lorenz: **_Our agent assures us that it will take quite a while.

_**SEELE-04-Mirandola:**_ You mean Charles' agent.

_**SEELE-01-Lorenz:**_ An irrelevant distinction, for all practical purposes. As long as he directs our knightmares to the right targets when the time comes—

_**SEELE-02-Mathers:**_ Knightmare frames…supercomputers…sakuradite bombs…_ Mika surascha para te gàmmes adrios_ _NA danos_. We've come a long way since the Golden Dawn, eh?

_**SEELE-03-Yeats:**_ You might say that.

* * *

A droplet of sweat ran down my forehead and dangled at the end of my nose. It flicked away when I blew on it, only to be replaced by another drop a second later. The air tasted stale and hot. My muscles responded slowly as I crawled through the air ducts—not with the burn of lactic acid, but almost sleepy. They didn't want to work any more than I did.

We were crawling. Our knees and elbows knocked against the floor in a _plunkplunk—plunkplunk _rhythm.

"A shortcut," Asuka said. "That's what Section 2 calls this? A _shortcut_?!"

"My throat's dry," I muttered.

"Buck up," said Asuka.

Rei patted me on the back. From the way her hand stuck to my shirt, she must have been sweating as well. I shut up.

_So even Angels sweat…_

"Sorry," I said. "I'm fine."

"That is fortunate, Pilot Ikari," Rei said.

"You'd better be fine. Ya know what, Shinji? Sometimes I wonder if you're a man at all. Whining for a little bit of water in the middle of an emergency…"

Asuka followed this a few seconds later with:

"…And stop looking up my dress!"

"I'm not—ouch! Stop kicking me!" I said.

"Silence," said Rei.

There was something about the way Rei said it that stopped Asuka's leg in mid-swing. Rei sat back, listening for something as everybody got quiet. For a while, we heard only two sounds—breathing, and the gentle patter of sweat falling on metal.

…And then, there it was:

_plunkplunk—plunkplunk…_

_plunkplunk—plunkplunk…_

_plunkplunk—plunk…_

"He has stopped," she said. "We cannot wait here. Let us continue."

Asuka swore, repeatedly. The flashlight's beam swiveled to the empty corridor behind us. It showed olive-colored walls, but nothing more.

"No way am I going to wait to get stabbed in the back," said Asuka. "Look, these ducts are pretty narrow, right? So he's probably not much larger than we are. I say we—"

Rei turned to Asuka—a bit faster than usual, maybe—with a glimmer in her eyes. I thought I'd imagined it until I saw faint red light reflected on the metal. Her voice was as calm as usual.

"The Angel poses a risk to NERV that outweighs the threat to our lives," Rei replied. "We must go on."

"Screw that!" Asuka shot back.

Asuka turned to me. She held the flashlight up to her face like one of those campfire ghost stories I always saw on television but never in person. Father didn't like camping. Asuka sighed an _I-wish-I-didn't-have-to-do-this_ sigh.

"Okay, Shinji: what do _you_ think?"

"I think…"

"Yes?"

"I think Rei's right. Sorry, Asuka."

Asuka exhaled sharply, but said nothing. A minor miracle. We started moving. Moments later, our mysterious duct-crawler thumped after us. I saw a glint in Asuka's hand.

"Holy—"

"Quiet!" Asuka hissed.

"Pilot Sohryu, please put the knife away," said Rei. "We are probably standing in front of his exit. If we move along—"

"Fat chance."

Something moved in the darkness. It was thin and short—probably no more than our height. I squinted and leaned against the wall but my hand slipped and squeaked on the metal. Asuka was shaking despite the heat.

"Come on!" she shouted. "If you're going to make your—"

A red flash where his right eye should have been—as if his eyes had been closed and he'd suddenly opened one of them.

"—move?"

Asuka looked around wildly, but the intruder had gone. Almost. We heard a gasp further up the tunnel to our right.

"Did he just teleport!?"

Rei shrugged. Orange traces of a nearly-activated AT field shimmered around her like dust floating in front of a window. I blinked. It vanished. Asuka hadn't seen it.

"Come," Rei said.

Asuka insisted on leading the way. Even in the gloom, I could see her knuckles turn white as she gripped the knife—a Britannian model, with blunt edges made of soft steel. It was balanced for throwing, not stabbing.

Somehow, I suspected she could use it anyway.

* * *

Long story short: we arrived.

This time, "EVA Launch!" was much less dramatic. We shoved our supports out of the way manually and crawled through a horizontal tunnel underneath the Angel that looked like an enlarged copy of the air ducts, right down to the ugly green paint. Asuka grumbled the whole way about how embarrassing the whole thing was—as if Prince Lelouch could see her anyway with our complete power shutdown. I didn't mention this, though.

We reached a door. Asuka folded it in half with a few kicks, and all three of us jumped out into a vertical shaft made of some bluish metal I've never identified. We anchored ourselves to the walls and looked up.

"Bingo," said Asuka. "Target confirmed."

The creature looked back at us from a large central eyelid and several eyespots that looked like the All-Seeing Eye from the books on Father's private shelf. I seemed like a daddy longlegs, with a bowl-shaped body at the center.

Then copper-colored sludge dripped from its eye. It hit Rei first. All the philosophy in the world couldn't save her from the jolt of pain when the stuff burned through her shoulder. She lost her grip. When she hit us, we tumbled down the shaft with her in a ball of twisted limbs and burning acid. Our pallet rifles clattered to the floor in the process.

"Not _YET_!"

Asuka spread her arms and legs. Sparks flew from the shaft as she dug her fingers in, but her new handholds remained firm. We piled into a side tunnel before the next wave of acid hit us.

"So what now?"

Asuka glared at me when I asked, but I thought it was a good question. We were trapped on a ledge with a minute of power left, and the Angel was dripping slime down the shaft in front of us.

0:59

0:58

0:57

"I wish I had my progressive axe right about now," she muttered.

_Oh yeah, Asuka_, I thought. _Really__ constructive…_

0:52

0:51

0:50

"I've got it!" she shouted.

It took her ten seconds to explain the plan to us, and another ten to get into position. Then we moved.

0:30

0:29

0:28

Asuka tossed a chaos grenade up the shaft. It split open and hovered, spitting shrapnel at the Angel. Asuka crawled out and anchored herself to the walls, neutralizing the AT field.

0:21

0:20

0:19

Acid dripped. Asuka screamed. Rei threw another chaos grenade and jumped down the shaft, while I leapfrogged over Asuka and acted as a second barrier. I neutralized the AT field just in time for Rei's grenade to fire.

0:12

0:11

0:10

Bits of metal tore through the Angel. At the bottom of the shaft, Rei retrieved the pallet rifle. Asuka swung free with one hand and grabbed her progressive knife with the other. She threw it…

0:07

0:06

The Angel's core cracked. Rei fired. The Ninth Angel crumpled like a crushed hat. It shivered once, then died.

0:04

In my entire piloting career, the emergency countdown never stopped at 0:01.

* * *

_**H.R.M. CdiB:**_ You will house Anya with Rei when she arrives this Saturday.

_**GIkari:**_ Out of the question. She's not even capable of synching with an EVA.

_**H.R.M. CdiB:**_ I beg to differ.

_**GIkari: **_That isn't my only objection, Majesty.

_**H.R.M. CdiB: **_Let's be frank, Mr. Ikari: My son is already subverting Rei. We need an extra buffer, and badly.

_**GIkari:**_ In that case, we'll use a Marduk-approved Child.

_**H.R.M. CdiB:**_ Rei would see through it. Our ostensible antagonism makes Anya's presence in Rei's apartment more plausible.

_**GIkari: **_Pull Lelouch out of Tokyo-3, then.

_**H.R.M. CdiB:**_ And risk an alliance between Lelouch and Schneizel? You must be joking. The Purists will cause enough trouble as it is.

_**GIkari:**_ We each have our own problems.

_**H.R.M. CdiB:**_ Bear in mind that I can add to your problems a great deal more than you can add to mine.

_**GIkari:**_ Lorenz can add to your problems considerably, Your Majesty.

_**H.R.M. CdiB:**_ Lorenz? Ha! While our Order spoke to Lilith through the Collective Unconscious, Lorenz was still an errand boy for Kircher. Don't antagonize me, Mr. Ikari.

_**GIkari:**_ Nevertheless, I will inform Chairman Lorenz of this development.

_**H.R.M. CdiB:**_ Do as you like. My decision stands.

_**GIkari:**_ For now.


	11. Chapter 11: Lelouch

**Chapter 11: Lelouch**

**

* * *

  
**

_"That which is Below corresponds to that which is Above, and that which is Above corresponds to that which is Below, to accomplish the miracle of the One Thing"_

--From the Qumran Emerald Tablet, discovered in Area 18 by the Reynolds expedition

* * *

I stood on the catwalk and stared. 7.4 million pounds of malevolence stared back at me through bandages the width of bed sheets. It smiled. Boulders of enamel gleamed under fluorescent lights. I heard footsteps and turned away.

Behind me, C.C. ascended the final rung of a ladder and brushed her hair from her face. It flowed obligingly over her shoulder. I don't say 'flowed' lightly—most girls' hair sort of flops, or sits. C.C.'s flowed. I suppose her immortal metabolism had something to do with it.

I pointed at the EVA.

"Ugly bugger," I said. "Fits the 'I am become death, the destroyer of worlds' quote better than the FLEIJAs, don't you think?"

C.C. stepped beside me, hands behind her back.

"Wait until you see what's hovering above NERV," she said.

I turned around and tried to maintain my whimsical smile. It was better than a guilty one, at any rate. My shoes plinked on the catwalk as their soles caught on the grates.

"Uglier than this?" I said.

C.C. nodded.

"Considerably."

* * *

And indeed, it was. Eight blunt prongs stuck out of the Angel like fingers, sprouting from a bowl-like dish with an eye in the center whose red pupil and green iris made it look a bit like an olive, complete with pimento. It was not, however, appetizing. Our satellites recorded its endless stare, but not for long.

"AT field activated!" someone said.

The screen dissolved into static. White fuzz reflected from the Command staff's faces like mechanical firelight.

"So it's just floating there?" I said.

Ritsuko's eyebrows furrowed. The mismatch between her black brows and blond hair exaggerated the effect—a sort of 'attractive scientist meets Groucho Marx'.

"The Hanged Man…" she murmured.

C.C.'s eyebrows rose a fraction. Her pupils had expanded in the darkness, which gave them an eerie catlike look. More than usual, even.

"Or the Wheel of Life," C.C. replied. "Either interpretation fits."

"Numerically, there's a stronger case for—"

Ritsuko was interrupted when an orange globule formed from the Angel's thorax and rocketed toward earth. It touched down somewhere in England. The explosion was a tiny dot on our map, but must have lit up the sky for miles.

Maya looked up from her console.

"Doctor Akagi, the Angel is dropping pieces of itself enclosed in AT fields."

Light and shadows from the monitor accentuated the lines on Ritsuko's face as she leaned forward to type commands to the MAGI. It made her look every day of her age, and then some. Another globule fell to earth.

"Estimated time until it's over NERV is three hours," Hyuga said.

C.C. smirked. She sauntered along the console, brushing her hand across it until two lines appeared. She rubbed the dust off with a flick of her fingers.

"So much for suspension and patience," she said.

Ritsuko pursed her lips, but said nothing. I did.

"Sorry, C.C., but am I missing something?"

The witch silenced me with a finger on my lips. Note that this was not a romantic gesture; it just shut me up faster and was subtler than clapping a hand over my mouth.

"Never mind," she said.

She knew that I was too curious for that, and I knew that she knew, and so on _ad infinitum_. Unfortunately, we had bigger problems.

The doors flew open. I saw a flash of red out of the corner of my eye, registered it as a NERV jacket, and found myself pinned against the wall before I could react further. To my credit, I processed the situation quickly enough to realize that I was not in _imminent_ danger of getting my face smashed in.

"K-Katsuragi? Take your hands off me! What's the meaning of this?"

As it turns out, I was half right. Misato didn't hit me, but she crinkled a paper into my face hard enough that the effect was similar.

"Traitor! What have you done to Asuka?"

I felt antsy tingles in my chest, and suppressed them. I took the paper. Someone had cut out letters from a newspaper and arranged them into sentences….except that they were all from the same newspaper.

* * *

LeL**O**_u_cH,

**G**_i_v**e **c._C._ B_a_**K**. t**H**_I_s i**s** w**AR**_nI_N**g**

* * *

"Where did you find this?" I said.

Misato replied through clenched teeth. Her grip didn't loosen.

"Asuka gave it to me. We found her in _your_ apartment."

"_Found _her? How is she?"

Misato said nothing.

"Take me to her," I said.

The temporary commander of NERV didn't move.

"Let me rephrase," I said. "Asuka holds Britannian knightly rank. Take me to her or face criminal charges when Ikari and Fuyutsuki return from whatever they're doing in Antarctica….assuming the human race survives that long."

Katsuragi exhaled, and her grip on my collar relaxed enough that I could pull away.

"If you're responsible for this…"

Misato trailed off, but her threat remained.

* * *

No matter. I jogged down the hall as quickly as my out-of-shape asthmatic lungs could manage. As usual, Katsuragi was a fool. Why would I hurt my own pawn?

"Pawn?" C.C. echoed with a smirk.

"Pawn," I said.

Her smirk didn't recede. If an artist ever asked me how to capture smugness, I would direct him to my favorite witch.

"You're a good liar," she said. "Even to yourself."

I rolled my eyes—the conversational equivalent of throwing raw meat to the sharks. C.C. bit.

"Dare I say it? Almost paternal…"

"Shut up, C.C."

A pause.

"No," I said. "On second thought, I have a better idea: Explain this note."

Her eyes widened when I handed her the paper.

"Impossible," she whispered.

"What?"

"Mao."

* * *

I arrived in a bright room, as if every light had been turned up to its maximum to scare the bogles away. Unfortunately, memories are harder to dispel than ghosts. Asuka had curled herself into the corner, hugging her legs close to her body. She rocked back and forth.

"What's—"

I stopped. Saw the noose made from bedsheets.

"—Oh…"

Jeremiah stood at attention a few feet away, holding an assault rifle as his eyes scanned the room. He gave me a helpless sort of look. The Second Child's eyes had become red and puffy, reminding me how close to her childhood she still was. She gave me a look that I hadn't seen since she was a few years old. My hopes did a nosedive.

Nunnally once said that I have two masks: Lelouch vi Britannia, the emotionless chess master; and Lelouch Lamperouge, the warm, caring high school student. I'm neither, of course. All the same, both personas can be useful. I softened my voice and assumed the second.

"Asuka?" I said.

"Go away!"

I took a step closer. Another step. Asuka's voice rose to a screech.

"You're just using me!" she said.

"That's not—"

"Nobody cares. Only Mama cared, but I didn't love her enough to follow her, did I? Was it really too much to ask? I could be with Mama right now if I'd just joined…He was right. What sort of worthless daughter lets her mother die alone?"

A thought struck me: Even Section 2 wasn't this incompetent. Which meant…

Asuka sobbed. I could finish that thought later. When I sat next to her, Asuka balled herself up more tightly and buried her face between her knees.

"Go away," she said.

Her tone was almost pleading.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," I said.

Asuka tried to shoo me away, moving her arms like a puppet getting her strings jerked. When it didn't work, she pulled her hands back quickly—too quickly—but I'd already seen the red lines on her wrists.

_Determined girl…_

I turned to Jeremiah.

"You removed the razors?" I said.

He nodded.

"Where's Sayoko?" I said.

"She's coming."

Good. Very good. Sayoko could comfort people much better than I could.

"And Jeremiah?" I said.

"Yes, Majesty?"

"After Sayoko gets here, I want you to start looking for a man wearing a robe, visor, and headphones," I said. "White hair. Speaks with a Chinese accent."

He gave me a quizzical look.

"Kill him," I said. "Painfully."

C.C. looked at the floor—almost too subtle a movement to notice, but not quite. I pretended I'd missed it.

Jeremiah gave me a grim smile. I should probably mention here that Jeremiah helped me bring Asuka up—though I've never determined whether she was Jeremiah's pet project or the daughter he never had. In either case…

"Gladly, Your Majesty."

I sat down again and stroked Asuka's hair, but it was like touching a warm statue. Her head hung limply between her knees. I've never been happier to see Sayoko than when she arrived twenty minutes later. At that point, I grabbed C.C.'s arm and pulled her from the room.

The Operations Director was waiting for us.

"Well?" Misato said.

"I'm placing Asuka on suicide watch," I said.

Her jaw clenched.

"In case you haven't noticed, there's an Angel out there," she said. "We probably can't beat it with _three_ pilots, let alone two."

My fist clenched involuntarily. The fingers relaxed v-e-r-y slowly.

"Asuka is in no state to pilot a machine that feeds on emotional trauma," I said.

"—Which _you_ caused, for all I know. Let our psychiatrists examine her."

"Over my dead body," I said.

Misato opened her mouth…

"And yours," I added. "Sayoko's uncannily accurate with edged weapons."

She closed her mouth. The respite didn't last long, however.

"You have two hours to come up with a better plan," she said. "Trauma or no trauma, I can't risk Armageddon."

"And how many children are you willing to risk to get revenge for your daddy?" I shot back.

_Then_ she slapped me.

**

* * *

**

**_SEELE-04-Mirandola:_** So the Tenth Angel is targeting the Unmoved Mover directly…

**_SEELE-05-Waite: _**How much of the Trismegistus Network has been destroyed?

**_SEELE-01-Lorenz:_** The Tenth Angel has obliterated the Iranian, British, and sub-Saharan thought elevators so far. Our Russian base is next.

**_SEELE-06-Dee:_** Unacceptable.

**_SEELE-02-Mathers:_** And probably deliberate.

**_SEELE-03-Yeats: _**_Certainly_ deliberate. Tell Ikari that if the delay continues, he'll find himself neck-deep in Britannian knightmares.

**_SEELE-00-ADAM:_** _Coraxo chis cormp od blans Liucal aziazor paeb soba lilonon chis virq op eophan od salbrox cynixir faboan U nal chis Coust ds saox co casg ol oanio yor eors vohim gizyax od math cocasg plo si molui ds pa ge ip larag om droln matorb cocasb emna L patralx yolci math nomig momons olora gnay angelard Ohio ohio ohio ohio ohio ohio noib ohio caosgon Bagle madrid i zirop chiso drilpa Niiso crip ip nidali…_

**_KNagisa:_** …Or in layman's terms: Get moving.

**_SEELE-01-Lorenz:_** Very well.


	12. Chapter 12: Rei

**Chapter 12: Rei**

* * *

_Nunnally,_

_ Don't contact me--I'll send word when I have the material you asked for._

_Sorry about your sister._

_--Kaji_

_

* * *

_

**Mountain... Heavy mountains. Things that change over time.**

**Sky... Blue sky. What your eyes can't see. What your eyes can see.**

**Sun... A unique object. **

**The ruling triplicity. The only triplicity. **

**A fractured world. Indifference.**

_Yet mountains change over time…_

**What?**

_Mountains change—_

**Water... Something comforting…**

_Yet wet and cold._

**Commander Ikari. **

_An external force._

**A positive force. A planner.**

_An external. Passions. Yui._

**Flowers—**

_Commander Ikari._

**Flowers—**

_Commander Ikari._

**Glasses. Hands. Burned flesh on hands. Unique occurrences.**

_Also externals. _

**Flowers…**

_Very well. Flowers._

**Flowers…So many of the same... And so many unneeded.**

**Sky... Red, red sky. The colour red. I hate the colour red.**

_Hatred. An emotion. _

**Yes. A weakness.**

_Love. An emotion. A weakness._

**Yes.**

_Indifference._

**Armor. Strength.**

_And touch?_

**No.**

_ No?_

**No. Water flowing.**

**Blood... The smell of blood. A woman who never bleeds.**

**Man made from red soil.**

**Man made from man and woman.**

**City... Man's creation.**

_Society…Man's creation._

**Eva... Man's creation.**

_Murder...man's destruction. I__ndifferent__ murder, though…_

**No…but perhaps…no! What is a human? A creation of the Unmoved Mover? The All? The One?**

_Yes._

**Is man a human creation?**

_Is the One a human creation?_

**It is human.**

_And therefore…?_

**Another thought: The things I possess are a life and soul. I am a vessel for a soul.**

_A vessel for reason?_

**A vessel for reason. **

**The entry plug, a throne for the soul. Throne of the logos.**

**Who is this? This is me.**

_And the logos?_

**An infinity of causes. A progression.**

_And indifference?_

**Armor. Strength.**

_Strength that cannot be developed. Armor that cannot be worn._

**But—**

_ An infinity of causes, remember?_

**But…**

**But then…**

**Who am I? What am I? **

_Rei Ayanami, of course._

**No—maybe. I am myself. This object is me.**

_Ah. Now we're getting somewhere._

**This is the me that can be seen, yet I feel as though I am not myself.**

…o_r free. _

**Or…Very strange. I feel as if my body is melting.**

**I can no longer see myself. My shape is fading.**

**I feel the presence of someone who is not me.**

_Yeah…that'd be Lilith. Or Yui. Same difference._

**I--What?**

**Is someone there, beyond this?**

_Shinji._

**Pilot Ikari?**

_One who will die._

**But if—**

_Emotion. A weakness. _

**I cannot accept—**

_A weakness!_

**I know a person. Major Katsuragi.**

**Doctor Akagi.**

**Everyone. Classmates.**

_All will die, like Pilot Ikari._

**The pilot of Unit 02. **

_Not responsible for her actions._

**Commander Ikari?**

_Not responsible for his actions._

**Who are you?**

**Who are you?**

**Who are you?**

_Pilot. Ikari. Will. Die._

_

* * *

  
_

"AH!"

My body shivered, although the plug was warm. The control sticks rested the same distance from my chest as they always had. Gray. My index fingers twitched on their triggers as someone spoke over the intercom in a soothing tone.

"You okay, Rei?"

Anya. Anya had spoken.

"I…I cannot pilot," I said.

"WHAT?!"

This was Operations Director Katsuragi's voice. She appeared highly agitated. Under the circumstances, her response lay within acceptable boundaries.

"Major Katsuragi," I said. "I cannot pilot. The EVA is performing…oddly."

"What's the problem?"

"It has strange dreams, Operations Director."

"Strange…what?"

* * *

My EVA's dreams were the second aberration that had entered my life that week. The first came earlier, and was named Anya Alstreim.

I discovered her when I returned from school. Commander Ikari had not warned me of her presence. When I arrived, I found her on the bed in a bathrobe. Her pink hair hung in wet threads. I assumed that she had used my shower—an assumption that turned out to be accurate when she greeted me with a flurry of complaints about cold water. I asked her how long she had spent showering.

"Are you kidding? I still have soap in my eyes!"

I had not noticed. Pilot Alstreim spoke angrily, like the Second Child often did—though I will not say 'rudely', since I did not know all of the thoughts that lay behind her behavior.

"I apologize for your discomfort," I said. "Although I am sure that as a pilot, you have the resources to deal with it."

I had intended this as a friendly assurance, but she did not interpret it in that vein.

"So basically, you're refusing to help me," she said.

I raised an eyebrow

"I did not intend to imply—"

"Just tell me where the sink is," she said.

"It is not operational. Moreover, it is just as cold as the shower."

Pilot Alstreim sighed in a way that indicated frustration and marched back to the shower, which she turned on. She held out her hand and made grabbing motions.

"Towel," she said.

I walked to the dresser and pulled my towel from the bottom drawer.

Commander Ikari's glasses watched me suspiciously.

_Why have you let this girl into our room?_ they seemed to ask.

_I have not_, I replied. _You did._

"Rei!"

Pilot Alstreim's tone suggested that this was not the first time she had spoken my name. She held my towel between her thumb and forefinger, wrinkling her nose.

"I am listening," I said.

"You must be kidding," she said.

"I do not understand."

She rolled her eyes.

"It's old and disgusting," she said.

"It is the only one I have," I said.

Pilot Alstreim blinked twice, and then her expression changed. She smiled at me, revealing dimples on her cheeks. Her eyes hardened. They looked me up and down, sizing me up as Commander Ikari's often did. Pilot Alstreim gestured at the cracked walls and piles of powdery cement beneath them. For effect, she gathered a spider's web from the corner and rolled it into a ball with her fingertips.

"You like this place?" she asked.

"It is adequate," I said.

Her grin broadened.

"Yeah. Right. You and I are going _shopping_," she said.

She noticed the Commander's glasses. Before I could stop her, she picked them up and tossed them from one hand to the other. I could not suppress a start. This, too, she noticed.

"I could buy you some new glasses, too," she said. "Contacts, even. Most guys prefer—"

"I do not need glasses," I said a little too quickly. "Put those—Please…please place those back on the table, Pilot Alstreim."

She frowned. Very carefully, she put the glasses back. As her arm dropped again, she tapped a finger against the side of her leg.

"Oooookay. You collect glasses or something?" she said.

"Only this pair."

Her smile returned.

"What if you lose them?" she said.

"I will not."

Pilot Alstreim snickered.

"No worries," she said. "I'm sure you'll have the_ resources to deal with it_ when the time comes."

As she said this, she made quotation marks with her fingers.

"I will not lose them," I repeated.

She shrugged.

"Hey, all I'm saying is that shit happens," she said. "Just remember that one pair of glasses is the same as another."

"I do not intend—"

I stopped in mid-reply when the implication of her statement occurred to me. I must have displayed signs of distress, since Pilot Alstreim nodded.

"Cognitive dissonance is a bitch, huh?"

I did not respond.

She clapped her hands together.

"_Sooooo_…." she said. "Shopping!"

Before I could reply, she dragged me out of the door.

* * *

"What happened then?" Pilot Ikari asked.

"She took me shopping," I replied.

We sat in the pilot's lounge—a small room with a red carpet and snack machine. I occupied the chair, while Pilot Ikari lay on the sofa. Between us sat a table with a pile of torn magazines geared toward young children. Pilot Ikari had once explained to me that these were "all that NERV had", which struck me as peculiar.

"Uh…yeah," he said. "Sorry. Kinda figured that. I guess that makes sense."

"Yes."

"…I mean, because of your new clothes and all. You don't go shopping at al—much."

"No," I said. "I do not."

He gave me a weak smile.

"It sort of looks nice. On you, I mean. Um…"

I looked at my sweater again. It was olive green. I smoothed an errant string of wool back into the weave. After wearing a dress for years, my jeans seemed tight.

"I do not agree," I said. "However…I am glad that you like it, Pilot Ikari."

He leaned back and placed his feet on the sofa's armrest, stretching them backward so that he did not rub dirt on them. He sighed. This usually preceded a show of emotional support—however moderate—so I crossed my hands on my lap and waited politely for him to speak.

After a short time, he did.

"Rei?"

"Yes, Pilot Ikari?"

"I hope you don't think I'm prying…"

"I do not."

"No," he said quietly. "I guess you wouldn't…"

He looked at his foot as he bobbed it forward and back—now pointing his toes, now extending his heel. Again, he sighed.

"Why did you let Anya take you?" he said.

My sleeves seemed a bit long--they brushed against my palms. I rolled them back.

"In life, Pilot Ikari, I have found that it is better to wish that things happen as they do rather than demand that they happen as I wish."

His brow furrowed. I wondered if this meant that he did not understand.

"I can explain further," I offered.

Pilot Ikari held a hand out.

"No, that's…fine, Rei. Thanks. I get it. I'm just saying."

I tilted my head to one side.

"Saying what?"

He shrugged. His collar must have bothered him, since he fastened his top button.

"I dunno," he said. "Just…"

"Yes?" I said.

"Well, I mean…If you don't stand up for yourself, she's gonna do it all the time, you know? And—"

He stopped as if he had realized something; but if so, he did not speak it aloud. After a respectable interval, I continued the conversation.

"I prefer to go shopping rather than to lose my calm through fighting against her," I said.

"Oh..."

I had wanted to give him some advice. This seemed as good a time as any, since the conversation had moved toward it.

"Pilot Ikari?"

"Yeah, Rei?"

"I find that this attitude helps in synchronization with the Evangelion," I said. "You may wish to try it."

Pilot Ikari removed his hands from behind his head and sat up. He seemed slightly more alert now. I was glad.

"How?"

"Close your eyes," I said.

Although he gave me a curious look, he did as I had asked. I placed my hand on his forehead. Ikari did not complain.

"Imagine that you are in the entry plug," I said. "Feel the liquid as it fills your lungs. It tastes of blood—notice this. The plugsuit clings to your skin; its exterior is wet and warm, but you cannot feel this. Rather, you feel rubber and your own sweat, and that your skin cannot breathe—"

Pilot Ikari's eyelids tensed.

"Okay…Er, thanks, Rei. I get the picture," he said.

"Very well. Notice your feelings here. Now imagine another scene. You are walking along a dirt road, with a rope around your neck. In front of you, a cart squeaks as it rolls forward. The rope rubs your neck until it blisters. Your raw skin stings in the sun."

Pilot Ikari closed his fists.

"Can't I fight it?" he said.

"You cannot."

"Who's driving it?"

"He wears a headdress with a lunar disk," I said. "You cannot see his face. Nor is he particularly relevant at the moment—"

"Okay, fine. I ask the driver his name," Ikari said.

"That is not the…Very well," I said. "The cart driver says that he is the Logos, manifestation of the World-Mind which is both male and female, articulated through a god of fire and spirit, who formed the Seven Rulers—"

"Uh…"

"Yes, Pilot Ikari?"

"Never mind," he said. "I won't ask him."

"A wise decision."

His eyes were still closed.

"So how do I get out of it?" he asked.

"You do not," I replied. "Nor do you stand still with dull acceptance until the noose jerks you forward."

"Huh?"

"You must want to follow him," I said.

"Oh…"

"And this brings me back to the EVA," I said.

"I was wondering when you'd get back to that..."

"You must open your mind to her, Pilot Ikari. Accept her direction."

His eyes opened at last, and his jaw clenched. Irritation.

"Why can't _she_ open up her mind to _me?_" he demanded.

An interesting double meaning.

"Perhaps…Perhaps she is trying, Pilot Ikari."

_And very hard, at that…_

A klaxon screamed. That was when NERV's personnel burst into the pilots' lounge and rushed us to the EVAs.

* * *

Another beginning.

I could feel the Tenth Angel's presence as it silenced the gateways to Akasha one by one. They shrieked in pain. Pilot Ikari smiled at me as he had when we had destroyed the Fifth Angel, and I felt strangely reassured.

_Concentrate..._

That was when my EVA's dreams began.

* * *

_**SEELE-09-Sprengel: **_What's happening over there?

_**GIkari:**_ Calm yourself. The situation's under control.

_**SEELE-10-Eckartshausen:**_ I'm not convinced.

_**SEELE-01-Lorenz:**_ Nor am I. Unless you're absolutely sure where the Angel will fall, the game's up.

_**C.C.:**_ I'll take care of it.

_**H.R.M. CdiB:** _Unacceptable.

_**C.C.:**_ No choice. And you'll still have V.V. if I fail.

_**KNagisa:**_ Adam's panicking, guys. Whatever you decide, do it _soon_.


	13. Chapter 13: Lelouch

**Chapter 13: Lelouch**

I didn't come up with a better plan, and when C.C. did, I wished she hadn't.

The EVAs waited in the middle of a summer day that might have been peaceful if it wasn't for a thousand tons of supernatural malevolence descending from orbit. Birds chirped, gentle breezes whistled across their shoulder pylons…All that nature shit. In the forest around Tokyo-3, two EVAs waited. Shinji's stood still except for an occasional clenching and unclenching of its hands.

Rei's twitched.

And twitched.

And twitched.

Her EVA's fingers picked at the blue armor like a child scratching a scab. Its head alternately jerked and stopped abruptly, as if Rei was trying to plug too many holes with too little willpower to spare. Shinji's EVA watched the performance, until Rei noticed and both EVAs looked away from each other. Shinji's hands clenched faster.

Two circles appeared on the mapscreen and intersected like a Venn diagram, forming a small sliver near the central pyramid. Useless. While the bridge staff fiddled with their reentry trajectories, an old woman trapped in a sixteen-year-old body prepared to give us the Angel's destination. Crisscrossing green lines from the map reflected onto C.C.'s body. Even by teenage standards, she was a small girl.

C.C.'s fingernails clicked on the metal.

"You okay?"

Her eyes opened just enough to glare at me.

"I'm about to connect with a being whose intelligence exceeds mine by absurd orders of magnitude," she said. "If that counts as 'okay'…"

"Sorry."

She sighed and paused with her mouth half open as if she was going to say something. The delay only lasted a moment before her eyes closed again.

"Secure her," Ritsuko said.

The rafters above the bridge echoed with clopping boots as NERV's security filtered in. Safeties flicked off. Scopes focused. As the EVAs waited, men chained C.C.'s wrists and ankles to her chair. The handcuffs glinted every so often when light from the screen fell on them just right.

"Target sighted!" someone yelled. "Distance approximately twenty-five thousand…"

…_and falling fast…_

A faint orange bowl appeared. The Tenth Angel. The color came from a cone of flame that wrapped itself around heaven's messenger as it entered the atmosphere. The upside-down omega-shaped symbol on C.C.'s forehead burned bright white. She screamed. Her handcuffs accompanied the sound with a scrabbling chorus of metal sliding on metal.

Ritsuko's face was impassive as she watched, save for a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth when C.C. started babbling. Or speaking. It could have been either. C.C.'s voice deepened and sped up until it was difficult to tell one syllable from the next.

"OL SONF VORSG GOHO IAD BALT LANSH CALZ VONPHO! SOBRA ZOL ROR I TA NAZPSAD, OD GRAA TA MALPRG; DS HOLQ QAA NOTHOA ZIMZ, OD COMMAH TA NOBLOH ZIEN…"

"Stay away from her," Ritsuko ordered. "And somebody get a recording of this. Aoba? Can you—"

"Already recording."

C.C.'s voice grew louder. It rang against the walls and rebounded until it seemed as if she was screaming from every direction. The resonances had an odd _solidity_ to them; less like sound vibrations than like somebody brushing past you. Misato trained her pistol on C.C.'s forehead. Her knuckles were white.

The water in Hyuga's glass danced and swirled until the glass shattered. Shards scattered across the floor far more widely and uniformly than they should have, like a glass minefield. Other voices joined C.C.'s, except that these whispered. They mumbled in a language that sounded a little like Hebrew, but wasn't. I heard names I'd forgotten years ago.

_Hadad. Serapis. Atargatis._

Shadows moved on the walls. The silhouette of a woman with a fish's tail crawled up a column. Her arms skittered like a cockroach's, pulling along a lower half that moved in a slower, pulsating motion that reminded me of an earthworm. Another shadow of a seated man stretched across the ceiling. He reached down and petted some sort of animal with a few extra heads.

"Just as the Qumran Tablet says," Ritsuko said. "'That which shineth as a flame in the midst of your palace…mightier are your voices than the manifold winds…' Huh. Okay then."

She took a deep breath and started chanting.

"_Nonci Ds Sonf Babage Od Chis OB Hubardo Tibibp Allar Atraah Od Ef Drix Fafen MIAN_…"

Her voice seemed to snap Misato out of her trance. She shook her head slowly as if she was clearing it.

"Rits, _what_ the f--"

"Quiet!"

Misato fell silent. So did the rest of the room. After Ritsuko pronounced the final syllables of whatever she was saying, the shadows vanished and C.C.'s screams stopped echoing. My witch gave an exhausted sob and slumped.

"Well?" Ritsuko said.

C.C. pointed to a spot on the map just above the pyramid. Her hand wavered for a few moments, and then fell as her body slid forward. A tenth of a second later, I was standing over her, shaking her shoulders. Two seconds after _that_, I'd regained enough control to calmly order the bridge crew to take her to the infirmary.

They didn't move.

"Step away from C.C., Prince Lelouch."

"Excuse me?"

Ritsuko's lips pursed.

"I said step away from her," she said. "There's a strong possibility of contamination—"

I waved at the screen.

"Don't you have a _war_ to fight!?"

Poor choice of words. The _Children_ had a war to fight. We could just watch.

The viewscreen split into two sections: On one side, Rei's EVA lurched toward the impact zone in a motion like an uncoordinated hurdler's. Shinji's progress was smoother. He raced past a blur of buildings and vaulted over telephone wires without breaking stride. From a distance, the falling Angel looked thin and aerodynamic; a falling wafer cut lengthwise from a starfish.

It arrived at the same time that the EVAs did. Its eye stared at the human machine with a look of blissful unconcern as it headed for Unit 01's outstretched arms. Or perhaps that's just my imagination; it's hard to do anything but stare when you don't have eyelids. The Angel looked much thicker up close.

"Spreading AT field," Shinji said.

A wall of orange surged from Unit 01 and leveled the buildings around it. Masonry scattered in an artificial wind at the same time that white hexagons spread above the EVA and blocked the Angel's descent. Briefly. The Angel pushed, and Shinji's Evangelion sank up to its knees in the hill.

"Augh! Rei, I need—"

The Angel's success lasted perhaps seven seconds before Rei sliced through the field and thrust her progressive knife into the core. The globe cracked and darkened. Around it, flesh turned a sickly shade of green.

The Messenger flopped onto the EVAs like an enormous pancake.

"—backup..."

The rest of Shinji's words were drowned out when the Angel's body expanded in a now familiar pattern. I'll give you the CliffNotes version: its skin bubbled, ethereal wings unfolded in one last gesture of defiance that we'd seen eleven times already, and the body erupted in a mushroom cloud.

Now the unusual part: somebody gasped.

At first, I'd thought it was Maya…which seemed a little odd. That's when I turned around and saw C.C.'s hands clutched to her mouth. She was trembling. As usual, I was in complete command of the situation:

"C.C., what…are you--er…what's going—um…?"

Those amber eyes of hers were wider than I'd ever seen them when she looked at me. Her gaze immediately fell to the floor.

"I…I won't run away, Master."

_Huh?_

"What do you mean?" I said.

Her eyes still glued to the floor, C.C. smiled weakly. It was the same smile that I'd seen from chimps at the Pendragon Zoo and from noblemen in Dad's court. Toadying. Submissive. The pitch of her voice rose, and I could detect tremors in it. She rubbed her handcuffed wrists.

"There's no need—I'm sorry for pointing it out, Master—but you don't need to chain me. Really! I won't run away. I promise. I—Um…even when my last owner…He told you, didn't he? I never ran…."

Misato's brow furrowed. Ritsuko's expression was unreadable—not a poker face, but an odd blend of triumph and worry. And I…

"Oh, _shit_," I said.

* * *

_**SEELE-01-Lorenz:**_ My condolences.

_**H.R.M. CdiB:**_ Eh?

_**SEELE-01-Lorenz:**_ Your daughter.

_**H.R.M. CdiB:**_ Which one?

_**SEELE-01-Lorenz:**_ 'Which one?' Ha! How many daughters have you killed recently?

_**H.R.M. CdiB:**_ None. Her soul is still intact.

_**SEELE-01-Lorenz:**_ Semantics.

_**H.R.M. CdiB:**_ Bite your tongue, Prime Minister.


	14. Chapter 14: Nunnally

**Chapter 14: Nunnally**

When you're fifteen and a princess of Britannia, you think that life will be easy as long as you follow a few simple rules.

Keep your head down. Be polite. Avoid politics like the plague. Escape your tutors with Euphie one afternoon and giggle as you catch snowflakes on your tongue. Get caught. Act like you're sorry. Wipe the snow from your hair while your tutor gives you an earful. Rejoice that Father thinks you're too useless to become Empress.

Get older. Discover boys. Bicker with Euphie over who gets to marry Lelouch. More importantly, find the hidden alcove behind Cornelia's copies of Clausewitz and Machiavelli where she keeps her dirty books. Show Euphie. Steal the books and deny everything.

Attend college before your twelfth birthday. Suffer through an internship in one of the newly conquered territories. Watch Numbers getting executed for rebellion, hundreds at a time. Complain to Euphie. Rejoice again when they reassign you. When your relief wears off, realize that your responsibilities extend much further than you thought, and start building charity organizations.

Graduate with honors and decide that academia isn't for you. Accept Cornelia's offer to teach you to ride a horse, even though horses always made you nervous. Spend the first few sessions watching her safely from the sidelines until you screw up the nerve to ride. Receive a pony named Bubbles. Discover that Bubbles prefers standing still and eating grass, and that your worries were unjustified. Trot around the pasture a few times and accept that you'll never be a good horsewoman.

Wake up with a billion voices in your head.

Wash up naked and shivering on the unfamiliar shore of a dead world. Vomit LCL from your lungs. Notice the crumbled buildings, the purple sky, the red sea. Most of all, notice the severed head that towers into the stratosphere. Access the nearest MAGI terminal and locate help. Any help. Survive on canned food until Jeremiah arrives.

Restart the automated municipal services, and fight off warlords with N-2 mines. Try to forget that you've just committed your first murders, and that they won't be your last. Meet the woman who raised you and your brother while your _real_ mother played court politics. Discover that she's insane and lovesick. Feel guilty that you never knew about the latter.

Accept that your family isn't coming back.

Wait for Lelouch anyway.

…And wait.

…And wait.

Find a way out. Maybe. Construct a machine that can access the Collective Unconscious and send you back, but will probably turn you into a comatose vegetable. Against all odds, wake up in the past. Laugh. Dance. Sing. Pretend that you're fifteen again, and ignore the weird looks you get. Allow yourself to become giddy. Take your problems lightly. Indulge in hope for the first time in years. Tell yourself that you know what's going on this time, and that the stars _will_ align.

Try to change things. Encounter resistance. Conclude that the task is actually impossible, but keep trying. Just remember that you're going to fail, and that another waking nightmare is less than six months away. Call Lelouch. Ask him to spend time with C.C. and get frustrated when he pretends not to understand. Fight with every ounce of your willpower to avoid telling him that he'll be dead in six months. He doesn't have the time. Neither of them does.

Find out that Cornelia has disappeared and that you can't do anything about it. Try to console Euphie. When she asks you why you're not crying, dodge the question. Realize later that it's because you already thought of Cornelia as dead.

You think of them _all_ as dead. Cornelia, Euphie, Father, Mother, Lelouch….They just haven't realized it yet.

_Now_ you can cry. But not too much, since you have work to do.

* * *

Kaji's package contained a single memory stick. It shone dully under the lights thanks to its red tin coating. Kaji hadn't bothered removing the lanyard, and had complained that he needed more time to assemble evidence. I didn't have the heart to tell him that he was scheduled to die the next day.

Euphie spun the stick on the table until the weight of the lanyard stopped the rotation. She stared at a point on the wall. The sleepless nights after Cornelia's death had not been kind to my sister. Her eyelids drooped, and the skin under her eyes had turned ashy gray. The cookies she'd baked sat on the table untouched. Just as well. She'd burned them.

"So…" she said.

"It's not enough."

Euphie's shoulders tensed. She started to say something, but bit it back and returned her attention to tracing patterns in the wall.

"You can snap at me if you want," I said.

"Why would I want to snap at you?"

Euphie said it as if she was reciting a famous speech by rote. Her voice carried no energy; even her lips barely moved.

"It's—"

"Not enough," she said. "You're right. The UFN won't take it seriously."

"Take what seriously?"

I jumped. Euphie turned to the door with the same bewildered look that she'd worn when we got lost in Pendragon's East Wing as little girls.

"Take what seriously?" Schneizel repeated.

Euphie pointed at him, and then at the door. Her wrist was limp, so that the motion looked like she was waving.

"But you're—I didn't schedule—Wasn't it tomorrow?"

Schneizel gently caught her hand and kissed it. He smiled.

"Sister dear, I'm afraid you're mistaken. I recall _very_ precisely that we scheduled our meeting at 3:30 on Tuesday. Not that I resent the company…"

He bowed in my direction. I curtsied and forced my mind into overdrive, playing out all the options; the shades of risk in each level of my brother's suspicion. He already knew _something _about the Qumran expedition…

Schneizel winked at me, dropping his voice to a whisper.

"So," he said. "What's this little secret?"

"N-nothin—" Euphie began.

"A coup," I said.

Schneizel took a step back. Euphie took a little longer to process my declaration. She gasped. By then, I'd already tossed the memory stick to Schneizel.

"One of my operatives compiled these files from NERV and gods-only-know where else. Take a look."

My brother stretched out his hand in that placating way that he always used before he patted my head or hugged me.

"Nunnally, I know that you have objections to the way that Britann—"

"You want to know what Father's doing in the private wing he built next to his room?" I said. "Or why Gendo seems to know about your communications before you send them? Or why Lelouch's messages don't make any sense?"

Schneizel's hand froze in midair. The mask of concern instantly dropped, and another mask took its place: utter calm. This usually meant that he was anxious, although he didn't know that I knew that.

"Go on," he said.

"Sit down," I said. "Cookie?"

Schneizel nodded and slowly lowered himself into the chair as if he was expecting to be bitten. He didn't seem to notice that the cookie looked like a hunk of chocolate chip anthracite.

"As I said, it's all in the files," I said. "Right now, just listen. You can decide later."

"Fair enough."

"Suffice it to say that Father, Gendo, and the EU's Prime Minister are planning to end the world. Now then…You obviously want the throne, so--"

Schneizel leaned forward and opened his mouth. I cut him off with a raised hand.

"Don't bother," I said. "I saw you playing emperor at the Frick Mansion when you were three years old."

His legs crossed and uncrossed.

"How…._Nobody_ saw that. You weren't even born—"

"Never mind that," I said. "The bottom line is that we both know that you want the throne and you'll pay almost anything for it. Fine. You have the Purists. I have the Jetalot Project. Even if I'm crazy and this is a massive conspiracy theory, I _still _have the resources to crown you Emperor. Let's make a deal."

"You'd leave out _Lelouch_?"

Schneizel had spoken so quickly that it must have been instinct. Natural cunning, if you like.

"He won't collaborate with the Purists," I said.

Schneizel took a breath. He stroked his chin and tapped the blackened cookie on the tabletop. It was subtle, but I saw his tongue run along the inside of his cheeks. I wondered if I should offer him the opportunity to wash his mouth out.

"You don't like the Purists either," he said.

"Let's be honest, Schneizel," I said. "I hate them. Even _you_ dislike them. I just happen to prefer a Purist emperor to billions of liquefied corpses."

Schneizel's eyes narrowed at my last comment, but I didn't elaborate. When Euphie finally found her voice, she gave me one of those "there must be another way" speeches. I rubbed my temples and tried to block her out. Schneizel waited until she finished, then turned a deep bow complete with arm flourish. He cracked another grin.

"An interesting proposition," he said. "I'll think about it."

Translation: _Agreed._

_

* * *

  
_

After he left, Euphie grabbed my shoulders harshly for the first time in my life.

"Nunnally, _what did you just do_?"

"I—I did what had---what I…."

I sighed.

"I did what had to be done," I finished.

The cliché tasted bitter. Euphie shot back one of her own:

"Congratulations, Nunnally. You just made a deal with the—"

"Don't finish that sentence. Please."


	15. Chapter 15: Lelouch

**Chapter 15: Lelouch**

C.C. spent the next week under heavy guard---not because she was dangerous, but because she'd apparently regressed to a childhood that I would have preferred not to hear about. On the first day, she gave me a list of her 'talents'. She'd buried plague victims and could count to fifty. It got worse from there.

My former governess still liked pizza, so I ordered a few days' worth and had a fine shouting match with Misato over "breaches of protocol" when Section 2 nearly executed the pizza delivery man. No matter. It was a small price to pay for C.C.'s goofy smile when she licked the sauce and grease from her fingers.

That had been the extent of my contact with her. Asuka had absorbed most of my time, although perhaps I'd had other reasons for avoiding C.C....

Until now, that is. I took a breath and opened the door.

And here we go...

"H–hello, master "

I managed a halfhearted wave. The apartment looked like a old sci-fi set from the 1920s filtered through a Qabbalist's take on art deco. They'd painted it with NERV's customary blend of red, purple, and black. C.C. sat on the floor, cross-legged.

"Hi," I said.

The television–-which C.C. now referred to as "the box with the people in it"–-droned in the background:

_Yesterday, a J.L.F. attack on Viceroy Kalaris's Shinjuku cleansing operation was averted by the actions of Sir Kururugi and..._

C.C. traced lines on the couch with her fingernails.

"Master, did you by any chance bring...um...?"

Her eyes flicked hopefully to my briefcase. She avoided direct eye contact. I sighed and opened it.

"Yeah," I said. "Here."

I handed her the box. She grinned and inhaled the steam from the pizza. Hesitated.

Good gods.

"You have my permission to eat," I said.

C.C. flopped onto the floor and rested her head on her right hand while her left shoveled pizza into her mouth as quickly as it could. This was progress. A week ago, C.C. had squeaked and dived behind the couch when the TV turned on. Now, her eyes glazed over as the newscasters traded "insights" about whatever trivialities had slipped past the censors: Guinevere's newest boyfriend. An earthquake in Area 4. _Clovis: A Study in Leadership_ had bombed at the box office.

This was not the woman I'd grown up with.

_And in political news, the Purists have given up their campaign to remove Director Nunnally vi Britannia from the Jetalot Project--_

"Don't change that " I said.

C.C. flinched. She changed the channel back.

_–and have reoriented their party toward electoral concerns. In other news..._

This was potentially bad. What was Schneizel playing at? For that matter, what was _Nunnally _doing?

"Sorry," I said.

A snarky comeback? Rolled eyes? A smirk?

Nope. C.C. bowed deeply and said that it was all her fault. I turned to Jeremiah. He gave me a helpless look at patted me on the shoulder.

_And in another setback for the Women's Movement, former Viceroy Cornelia has failed to appear for the annual rally in Pendragon Square. Her continued absence has raised eyebrows in the military and the Foreign Office, but few speculate about the potential cause..._

"Er...How's the pizza?"

"Great, master."

I forced a smile.

"To watch you eating it, you'd think that you never had a normal meal...."

"Actually, master, that's tr–"

"Never mind," I said.

A klaxon sounded before the farce went further.

* * *

"You called?"

Misato pretended that she hadn't heard me. Fuyutsuki actually hadn't heard me–-he was leaning over Aoba's workstation, where a network of red hexes with official-sounding labels like A-115 and G-230 honeycombed the monitor. Gendo didn't seem very talkative either.

I grabbed the nearest technician.

"Well?" I said.

She pointed at the viewscreen. At first, I saw red dots against a blue field. I looked more closely. The darker shades of blue formed into arms and legs. A body. Ripples of muscle. This must have been the tank where they kept the simulation bodies. Light blue blobs ascended on either side, and I recognized them as bubbles. Red dots swirled between them.

"And what are the red—Oh...." I said.

"Angel," Ritsuko called out.

Her eyes remained glued to Hyuga's console. Both hands whirred over the keyboard as she held a ballpoint pen between her teeth. She clicked the pen rapidly with her tongue. I was impressed.

"Breach in the 87th protein wall " Aoba shouted.

"The Pribnow Box is getting infiltrated "

"Evacuate Sigma Unit "

More technobabble followed. Just as I began to suspect that they were making it up as they went along, red beams lanced through the water. When they hit the infection, hexagons of light appeared. Water boiled where the two met. When the bubbles cleared, the Angel had spread. Ritsuko removed all oxygen from the box. Same result.

Gendo finally spared me a glance, and we exchanged a silent compromise.

"Cancel the alert," he said.

"But—"

"Cancel it," he repeated. "Inform the Emperor that we have experienced a malfunction. Launch the EVAs."

"Without pilots?"

"Yes, Major Katsuragi. Without pilots. Now."

Ritsuko looked up.

"Commander."

"What?"

"It's evolving," she said. "At this rate, it can spread extremely rapidly."

The angel punctuated her point by setting off another alarm.

"The MAGI— "

It was true. Three irregular pentagons showed up on the screen. Orange lines connected them. "CODE 263 hovered ominously at the top left corner....whatever that meant.

Pixel by pixel, the pentagons switched from blue to red like an excerpt from Robert McNamara's worst nightmare. The Angel absorbed MELCHIOR first. Ritsuko redoubled her typing. Red spots blinked onto BALTHASAR. More technobabble followed to no avail; BALTHASAR succumbed. The Angel began to gobble up CASPER.

"I've got a firewall up!" Ritsuko said.

The Angel stopped. Temporarily. CASPER clung to a single blue blip in a sea of red. We took a collective breath and realized that we were well and truly screwed. In the respite that followed, an incongruity that I'd banished to the back of my mind shot to the forefront.

"Dr. Akagi, where's your assistant?"

Ritsuko frowned.

"Maya Ibuki?"

"Yes," I said.

"I'm not sure..."

Conveniently, the viewscreen picked that moment to give us our answer. We saw Maya first: bound, gagged, and bruised. She appeared to be lying in the same room as the MAGI.

A white-haired man stood over her. He wore a cape-and-coat combination that looked vaguely like a straightjacket. A visor obscured his eyes. He threw out his hands and turned a pirouette, motioning to the computers behind him.

"Helllooooooooooo _EVERYONE _"

Gendo calmly turned to the bridge crew.

"Lieutenant Hyuga: flood the MAGI room with gas–"

"Nope " Mao said. "'Fraid not "

He grinned and yanked Maya's hair until he'd pulled her face next to his. He tapped her forehead.

"Sorry, _Commander_, but this helpful little lady told me all that I need to know about the MAGI system," he said. "If I wanted to, I could cut off the bridge's air supply. Howdjalike that?"

Gendo's steepled fingers pushed in and out like a pulsating jellyfish.

"Lieutenant Ibuki," he said. "If you betrayed NERV security information to this man, you will be shot—"

"Telepath," I said.

Maybe I imagined it, but I swear that I could detect an _are-you serious?_ look from behind Gendo's trendy glasses.

"I'm not joking," I said.

"Ah," he replied.

Mao pointed a finger at me.

"Here's the deal Lelouch," he said. "Give me C.C. or I'll turn off the MAGI's defenses and let the Angel through."

Gendo smirked. Apparently, I wasn't the only one who saw grim humor in the situation.

"Has it occurred to you..."

"Mao," I said.

Gendo nodded.

"....Has it occurred to you, Mao, that if you disable NERV's defenses, you'll also destroy the entire world, including yourself and C.C.?" he said.

Mao's upper lip twitched.

"We'll hide underground."

"And you'll escape the blast site how, exactly?" Gendo said.

"Er...."

Mao suddenly kicked Maya in the ribs, hard. She must have come to the same conclusion Gendo had.

"I'm not an idiot!" Mao screamed.

Mao's fingers hovered over the MAGI terminal's keyboard, daring us to continue goading him. Gendo said nothing. His glasses flashed dramatically, and I reminded myself to buy an extra-reflective pair of Ray-Bans if we survived this.

Mao lowered his visor and leered.

"That shut you up pret--ty quickly, didn't it?" he said. "Angry? Frightened?"

Fortunately, Mao wasn't close enough to see the Commander's secret smile. The old bastard had just killed two birds with one stone, and he knew it.

Drat.


	16. Chapter 16: Nunnally

**Chapter 16: Nunnally**

Busy week.

College graduate though I was, Father had insisted that I attend Ashford during my tenure at the Jetalot Project. Maybe guilt played a role. It's nice to give your daughter a normal social life before you destroy the world.

I ran a little in track club—just enough to get first place, leaning on my superior genes like a crutch. I'd avoided the drama club students, my music instructor, the computer club…especially the computer club. I knew the MAGI well enough. Oh, and I'd ignored that cute guy who sat in front of me in math class. He had the sort of deep purple eyes that you could lose yourself in. Too bad he killed people for my uncle. I still talked to my "friends" once in a while, and they didn't notice the difference. I think.

No…These days, my after-school activities revolved around palace revolutions.

"That's…crazy," Suzaku said.

Euphie's face became strained. She leaned toward Suzaku; not aggressively, exactly. Stress plus determination plus insomnia.

_Well done, Euphie_, a part of me mused. _Within limits, anyway. Suzaku might respond to desperation from a lover…_

Another part of me felt ill at that thought.

"Nunnally's predicted the entire war so far," Euphie said. "How can you explain that?"

"I can't, but—"

"We've already talked for an _hour_ about this," Euphemia said. "You've seen the evidence. We even showed you the files—"

Suzaku's jaw tightened while the rest of his muscles relaxed. He sat up straighter. His 'duty' pose. Their eyes met, and I knew what he was going to say before he said it.

"I need more time, Euphie."

"But—"

"I pledged to serve Britannia," he said. "I'm sorry to point this out, but—"

He dipped his head toward us.

"—with all respect to Your Majesties, this could be a plot from one or more of you."

His voice was level-calm to the point of smugness. I'd expected that, too.

"She's my _sister_!" Euphie said.

_Too shrill_, I thought. _Sounds emotional. Irrational. Gives Suzaku an excuse to delay._

I took a breath and put my hand on my sister's shoulder.

"Please wait in the other room, Euphie."

"I…huh? What?"

That suspicious look again. This time, I ignored it much more quickly.

"We won't do anything to him," I said.

Euphie's eyes widened for a split second, and then narrowed. Schneizel looked from Euphie to me as if he was playing poker. His bangs and eyelids almost concealed the gesture. Almost.

"No," Euphie said. "I didn't _think_ you would..."

Gossamer fabric brushed against the door as she opened it. It slammed. Suzaku crossed his fingers on the table. I waited until I couldn't hear Euphemia's footsteps anymore.

"You stabbed your father to death," I said.

Suzaku's jaw nearly hit the floor. Schneizel didn't miss a beat—Pinkerton Branch knew as much already, and Schneizel had probably planned a blackmail scheme and just assumed that I'd started early. Not quite.

"How…?" Suzaku said.

"I heard your thoughts when you killed him," I said. "I can recite it in order if you like."

His hands were shaking.

"It started with, 'He's going to hit me'," I said. "And then the realization that he was dead…"

No answer.

"I suppose that I could have figured that out without Instrumentality," I said. "But then again…"

I leaned next to his ear and whispered his thoughts in the hours after his father's death, complete with his own rationalizations. I recited what he'd told himself days afterward when his father's former colleagues thanked him. I described the time he'd _almost_ told Kaguya, but couldn't work up the nerve.

When I'd finished, his arms had gone limp, and he half-slumped across the table.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Silence.

"It's your choice, Suzaku," I said. "If you don't pilot Jetalot, I'll do it myself."

He looked up.

"You _are_ insane."

"My mother was the highest-scoring ace in Britannian history," I said. "I piloted knightmare frames before I could walk."

"Jetalot isn't a knightmare."

"True enough," I said. "But I have your memories as well."

A pause. Suzaku readjusted in his seat.

"I—There's no need," he said. "I'll pilot."

I rubbed his shoulder. The mahogany tabletop reflected my fake smile back at me—subtle, just a hint, not too broad—while I heard my voice become soothing.

"Good," I said. "Should we call Euphie back, or do you need a minute?"

_Give the target irrelevant choices after the job's done_, the voice said. _Ve-rry good._

"Fine…S'fine now," Suzaku said. "Okay. Send her—get—ask her to come in."

* * *

My lecture followed. Schneizel interrupted a few minutes in; he raised his left hand while he puffed on a cheroot with his right. Gray ash fell on his glove. Nasty habit—Cornelia says that he picked it up in Southeast Asia.

Sorry…I should have used past tense. Cornelia _said_.

I sighed.

"You have a question, Schneizel?"

"Why China?" he said. "This just distracts us from our own coup plans."

"Lorenz and Father share control of the eunuchs," I said. "If Xingke puts the Empress in charge, it weakens SEELE and Britannia simultaneously."

Euphie had crossed her arms over the table, and was resting her chin on them in a makeshift pillow. She peeked over her shirtsleeve.

"And it strengthens Gendo," she muttered. "We're going in circles."

"No," I said. "It _weakens_ Gendo. We're dealing with a three-way game here: Father and Lorenz want Instrumentality, Gendo wants godhood for himself, and none of them trusts the others."

Suzaku shrugged.

"Same difference. The world ends either way."

"_No_," I snapped. "It does _not_ end either way. If SEELE wins, we can do this all over again until we get it right. If Gendo wins, it's game over. Humanity disappears permanently."

Schneizel tilted his head infinitesimally to the left and looked at me. I felt like a bug under a microscope.

"…Anyway," I said. "Once Xingke consolidates Tianzi's position, we've introduced a wild card and a possible ally. Gendo will become the prime suspect behind Xingke's coup."

A low chuckle from Schneizel. He understood. Euphie might have too, although she didn't comment. Suzaku scratched his chin.

"I don't see how—" he began.

"We'll use the Black Knights," I said. "Suzaku, that's where you come in…"

* * *

After my sister and her knight had filed out, I sank into my chair and poured myself a glass of brandy. Too sweet; I puckered my lips. When the tension didn't drain away, I tried clenching and unclenching my fists. No luck there, either.

Smoke still wafted from behind Schneizel's chair.

"You're a bit young for brandy, little sister."

I took another sip. It didn't go down well, but I managed.

"And you're a smoker," I said. "Hardly a princely habit."

Schneizel smiled and leaned back in his seat. He unbuttoned his robe, revealing a black suit, black pants, and a tie that he promptly loosened. His legs crossed over the coffee table, and I noticed leather shoes. They squeaked.

"You already know all my bad habits from Instrumentality, _n'est-ce pas_?" he said. "So why hide them from you?"

"Fair enough."

He tapped his cheroot. A dab of ash fell on the floor.

"How much has Lelouch figured out?" he said.

"Not sure," I said. "In the original timeline, Lelouch would have encountered Mao about now."

"The telepath?"

"Yes."

He nodded. Another flick of ash.

"And then?" he said.

"There's no guarantee that he gets past Mao," I said.

Puff.

Puff.

"Humor me."

"Okay," I said. "If he's the same Lelouch that I remember, he's already taken advantage of C.C.'s amnesia."

"As in…?"

"Her computer has safeguards," I said. "Retina scan, fingerprints, voice identification, AT field detection—"

"So he'll order her to unlock it," he said. "What then?"

"He'll find a file called 'Cod. Vat. Lat. 900X'."

Schneizel's eyebrow rose.

"A Vatican document?" he said. "Will he know what it means?"

"No," I said, "but Section XIII in Rome has some of Kircher's files from before he disappeared."

Schneizel's eyebrow quirked slightly higher, and his fake smile dropped.

"They'll _help_ him?" he said.

"Bishop Maxwell owes Lelouch a favor," I said. "Long story."

"How—"

"Trust me: you don't want to know."

Schneizel took that as a cue to get up. He gave me another pearly smile and bowed.

"Right then," he said. "Another stimulating visit, but I'm afraid all good things must end…"

I caught his sleeve. My fingers touched the inside hem, where the coarser material of his jacket rubbed against the silk robe. He stopped.

"I meant what I said, Schneizel."

"What?"

"If this fails, you can try again. Lloyd—_my_ timeline's Lloyd—thought that you could protect yourselves from the effects of an anti-AT field within a limited area. I'm building the machine now."

"You didn't say 'we'," he said.

"No," I said. "I didn't."

I exhaled.

"Schneizel, I'm not going through Instrumentality a second time."

"No?"

"No," I said. "If we fail, I've made…arrangements."

My brother didn't say anything for a while; just looked at the ceiling. At last, he 'hmm'ed' in acknowledgement and managed a second, curt bow. A few steps—they seemed a little slow, their rhythm a little off. He paused at the door as if he'd forgotten something, but didn't look back.

"Don't tell Euphie," I said.

Schneizel's fingers drummed on the door.

"I won't," he said.

And then he walked out.


	17. Chapter 17: Lelouch

**Chapter 17: Lelouch**

I was staring at a mirror. Cold water dripped down my hair and face. I relaxed my eyelids to quell the panicked look that reflected back at me, only to remember how useless it was. Correcting your body language to fool someone who can read minds is a little like adding an extra tassel to a bikini and calling it a parka.

I took a breath and left the bathroom. The sink was still running.

* * *

Mao was waiting for me.

He stood in a rather poorly lit hallway. Maya lay a few feet away, bound and gagged with duct tape. I racked my brains for our exact location, but for some reason, I couldn't remember NERV's layout as clearly as I usually did. Electric lamps flickered. Wherever we were, the architect had coated it with a layer of ugly yellow linoleum.

Fortunately, I was out of mindreading range. For now.

Mao shouted across the gap. C.C. gripped my arm.

"Come into my parlor, said the spider to-"

"Oi," I said. "Mao, is it? When you get close enough to read my mind, d'you think you'll be able to come up with cleverer threats?"

"You little—"

I _tsk'd_ loudly.

"Tell you what," I said. "I'll come up with a half-dozen witty rejoinders for you by the time I cross the hallway."

Mao snarled and kicked Maya in the ribs, hard. C.C. winced.

"You armed?" he said.

I opened my coat.

"Nope."

A smile spread across his face. He crossed his arms and waggled the pistol at me with a loose wrist.

"Well, _Lulu_….Since you just pissed me off, I'm changing the deal."

"Hostage-taking?" I said.

"Bingo."

I shrugged. It hadn't been the most obvious move in the world, but—Scratch that. It _had_ been the most obvious move in the world. I wondered for a moment whether his strategic thinking would improve after he had access to my mind, and suppressed a shudder.

"You'll release Ibuki?" I said.

He took a step forward. Perhaps it was my imagination, or maybe it was the hum of the fluorescent lamps reverberating through the corridors' odd geometries, but I could swear I felt a slight buzzing at the edge of my consciousness as Mao moved closer.

His eyes widened.

"Uh…Yes! Yeah…" he said.

So…Mao must have come close enough to hear my thoughts already: Gendo knew that the jig was up if Rits didn't get Ibuki back in time. And if the world was going to burn anyway, what difference would it make if a prince died when Gendo flooded the hallway with bakelite to kill the telepath responsible…?

Besides, my own escorts had already arrived. Sayoko brandished a rather elaborat blade that looked like it may have seen medical use at one time. I held out my hand and motioned for them to stay back.

Mao kicked Maya once more for luck.

"Start rolling, girly," he said. "And _you_!"

Here he turned to me. He was panting, and I thought for a moment that I could see his irises shaking.

"Give me C.C.!" he roared.

And really, who am I to argue with a snub-nosed revolver?

* * *

We descended. In silvery elevators. In escalators jutting into the black rock of the NERV underground. On steps cut so crudely into the granite that they might as well have been hewn by Union Pacific laborers. Mao stood between us, prodding me in the back with his pistol and giving an occasional grunt when he wanted me to move faster. Guided by my memories of NERV's tunnels, Mao _clip-clopped_ through floor after floor at double time.

C.C. trailed behind.

"P-please don't hurt Master…" she said.

_Uh, oh._

Mao whirled around. C.C. "eep'd" and cowered behind a steel pillar.

"Did you say 'Master'?" Mao said.

His head swiveled from C.C. to me.

Ever try to hide something from your parents, even when you're sure they'll notice? Same emotion, but substitute "telepath" and stir. In the quiet of the corridor, I could hear his teeth grind.

His hands found my throat.

"You BROKE HER!"

In the next moment, I felt a shooting pain in my gums as Mao's pistol was shoved up my mouth. I soon realized why: Blood dribbled down the barrel. The bastard had knocked out a tooth…

The hammer clicked.

"Oral hygiene is the least of your worries," Mao growled.

The elevator arrived with a cheerful _ping!_ that rather ruined the mood. Not that I minded.

"Get. In. Now." Mao said.

I moved to comply. Pain. Mao hit me in the ribs. I doubled up and gasped for air.

_Hey! Welcome to NERV. Please press your preferred floor and GET THIS BABY ROLLING!_

Even as I painfully gulped air, I found myself sharing a look with Mao.

"…Who designed this elevator, again?" he said.

"You don't wanna know," I wheezed. "Just pressh 'B-12'."

He did, and we spent the next five minutes in silence. In the first ten seconds, I realized that my missing tooth had added an unwelcome whistle to my "s's".

* * *

The elevator itself was plain enough. Its walls were encrusted with thick bluish-green paint. Occasional globs had hardened, which gave the surface a bumpy feel. Nor did the elevator music add to the ambiance; I could have done without a drunken karaoke rendition of "Disco Inferno" in the same voice that had greeted us earlier.

On the other hand, I absolutely _loved_ the anguished shrieks that Mao gave in accompaniment a few moments later. C.C. clutched her ears and shot me a wild, startled look. The pistol clattered to the ground. As I picked it up, I finally began to remember what had happened.

My reminiscing stopped when the doors opened and I saw the face of our "rescuer".

It was enormous: EVA-sized, but broader. A white torso hung by nails through its hands on a giant red platform that resembled a wispy letter Omega, writ large. After a moment, I realized that it was the Geass sigil. The thing had no legs: just a series of bulges and whiplike extremities that looked like roots. All were white. Orange liquid dripped from the figure. It ran down the sigil into a sea of LCL below.

Everything seemed hazy down there. The lamplight showed up as a whitish fog, as if particles in the air had caught the light. Yet the place seemed dry. Dead. Waves of LCL lapped against the floor of our elevator. The figure on the sigil stared back at us through a purple mask with far too many eyes.

Mao's screams redoubled.

As Mao writhed on the ground and bawled his head off, I reflected on the cruelty of a world that had condemned me to a bitter three-way choice: forgo my usual gloating victory speech over a fallen foe (impossible), deliver the speech whistling like a third grader with a missing tooth (unthinkable), or extemporize a monologue without any "s's".

And then, I remembered a fourth option. I concentrated very, very hard.

_Hiya, Mao_, I thought.

Maybe – just maybe – his anguished wail had been a reply. For now, I would proceed on that hypothesis. I continued my internal monologue.

_You're probably wondering how I beat you…_

Scream.

_It was simple, really. Want to hear it?_

Gurgle.

_So glad you asked. See, Mao, when C.C.'s mind linked up with the Tenth, I figured that whatever power allowed Geass to affect human minds probably did the same to our extraterrestrial visitors._

Screech.

_Well, yes. That's true. I couldn't be __completely__ certain, but let's just say I've been conducting a few experiments on my own that all but confirmed the theory. Anyway, I realized that I needed to get you close to Terminal Dogma, where the Second was restrained. If the Tenth fried C.C.'s mind as badly is it did, I could only imagine what would happen to a full-blown telepath…you __are__ still listening, aren't you? _

By now, Mao was lying on the ground whimpering. Drool ran down his chin. Every muscle in his body had seized up, frozen at maximum tension.

…_It's just that I couldn't help but notice a pronounced lack of interest when I first introduced you in my little tale. What's the matter? Not obvious enough? I thought I'd laid the groundwork with the exposition and all, but perhaps you didn't notice that I was referring to you when I mentioned the telepath- _

"Urk."

_Well, perhaps you're right. In any event, I knew that I could never trick you into going to Terminal Dogma voluntarily. Telepathy, remember?_

"Eughhhhh….." Mao replied.

His face was turning an interesting shade of purple. Even C.C. poked her head out from behind a symbolic-looking pillar to spare him a worried glance.

_Heh. Silly me. Of course you remember. Anyway, I was stuck. What to do…? Well, as it turned out, Mao, it wasn't that difficult. I just headed to the nearest bathroom mirror and geassed an alternative map of NERV into my memory. One where the "exit" lead straight down to Terminal Dogma. Really, Mao…I know that NERV's hard to navigate and that you tend to rely on telepathy rather than common sense, but seriously: You didn't think it was a TEENSY bit odd that the exit route led downward? _

No response. Mao was frozen with a look of terror on his face. Not that I blamed him - what with the "thoughts no mortal should think" running through his mind. Mao's muscles had gone from "really stiff" to "My, that looks like rigor mortis".

_Well, no matter. I had a backup plan anyway, on the offchance that you figured it out. In any event, I gave myself a final order to forget my own plan until it reached its climax. I knew you'd need a hostage to navigate NERV, so I placed myself at your disposal. When you released Ibuki, you lost the only other mental map you had. From then on, you were mine._

No clapping.

_Ta-daaah?_ I tried.

Just in case he was waiting for a bow, I dipped low and swept my hand across the ground. Nothing.

_Really, Mao? Really?_

I sighed. As I reflected on the sad decline of the theatergoing public, I flicked open my cell phone and hit "send". The number was already waiting for me.

"Ritshuko?" I said.

"Who is this?"

"Take a wild guessh"

"Oh. Lelouch. Your voice sounds a little…different."

"_Yesh_…I'm _aware_ of that, thanksh…But shouldn't we be focushing on the more esshential thingsh? Like…oh, I dunno…SHAVING THE WORLD?"

"Er…"

"…On shecond thought, don't ansher that."

I paused for a moment and reconsidered my options. C.C. stared at Mao's motionless body. I wasn't particularly worried; the bastard was still breathing.

"Ahem…" I said. "All right, Ritsuko. Why don't we try that again? Report on your progresh—er...on the degree of completion of your attempt to deshtr—eliminate the Angel."

If anyone could convey gloom over a phone, it was Ritsuko Akagi.

"We have a plan," she said. "We know that the Angel evolves depending on what we throw at it. Maya and I figure that we could design a program that would set it on a course to its own suicide."

"Exshell—um, very good," I said. "But…?"

She sighed.

"But we can't figure out its adaptive system quickly enough. If only we knew how it _thought_, we could…"

"Ritsh?" I said.

"What?"

"Would the good doctor like to examine a patient?"

* * *

It's almost uncanny how the universe gives you _just _the right tools for a job. All it takes is a little improvisation.

By the time NERV security dragged him to the entry plug, Mao had almost recovered from his earlier run-in with the origin of carbon life. I mean, sure: he might have been walking on rubber legs and speaking in tongues, but at rock bottom he was still the same Mao we'd come to know and love. As they strapped Mao into the entry plug and attached the A-10 clips, I ran my tongue through the hole in my teeth and wondered how long it would take for NERV's dentist to fix it.

Technically, adults aren't supposed to synch with EVAs. The process usually produces a puddle of orange goop, a lot of aggravation, and a shortage of pilots. Fortunately, we weren't going to make Mao synch. Instead, we would use our machinery to feed Mao's mental data directly into Ritsuko's computer, where she could analyze it. In short, we'd spare Mao the agony of synchronizing with the artificial deities that lay in the EVA cages.

…After all, why settle for artificial when you can get the real thing?

If you haven't figured it out by now, I'll summarize.

NERV security wheeled Mao's entry plug right up to the Pribnow Box. We'd wrapped our saboteur up like a birthday present: he was loaded with A-10 clips, wires, a plugsuit, and Rits-only-knows what other sensors. The Angel's mental patterns flowed like a torrent into Ritsuko's computer, courtesy of Mao's mindreading and a particularly hardy pair of A-10 clips. The software spat out lines of nonsense, which Ritsuko transformed into a strategy to retake our computer system. Slowly, inch by inch, Ritsuko fought her way back across NERV's biological supercomputers. The red wave had crested a while ago; now it began to retreat. She waited until all three computers had been freed from the intruder's control before she sent the virus.

The Angel obligingly died.

As for me, I just enjoyed watching Mao convulse. The restraints held him in place. Over the next hour, his A-10 broadcasts became fainter, until the only signal flowing from the clips was white noise. By that time, though, we'd already harvested the information we needed. This was just as well. Mao's body had begun to dissolve into a soupy orange mess: a flesh-and-LCL sculpture with the consistency of Jell-O.

_Can you hear me, Mao?_ I thought.

His hair dripped into his lap. I concentrated harder, focusing as much hatred as I could into my last communication to him. I thought about my Knight's hollow expression as she looked up at me without giving any indication that she saw me. I recalled the cuts on her wrists.

_Asuka says hello._

Perhaps it's just wishful thinking on my part, but I could swear I saw a final blip on Ritsuko's machine.

I chose to interpret this as applause.


End file.
